


Unsettled

by closetgeekasaurus



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Anxiety, Coming Out, Confessions, Dysphoria, M/M, Oral Sex, Trans Male Character, background hunk/pidge, some partial sex scenes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-15
Updated: 2017-08-15
Packaged: 2018-12-15 22:13:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 23,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11815239
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/closetgeekasaurus/pseuds/closetgeekasaurus
Summary: When Keith lets his own tension and anxiety start to build, he must make a decision on whether to trust his instincts or to trust in his team.





	Unsettled

**Author's Note:**

> for the 2017 Voltron General Bang

It’s one of those nights- the kind where Keith is already on edge, every little sight and sound sending him into a quiet tailspin of anxiety. A fork scraping across a plate sends a jolt of nausea rippling through his stomach. He stares down at his helping of space goop, which is suddenly even more unappetizing than usual. Hunk laughs at whatever sarcastic comment Pidge has just made, both of them oblivious to Keith’s mood shift. Shiro and Allura aren’t here, too busy discussing strategy. “Code for banging like bunnies,” Lance always jokes, although not that he has any room to talk.

Right now the blue paladin is shoveling down his food as if he hasn't eaten in three days, occasionally providing what he seems to think is witty banter. Normally Keith would be glad to hear everyone getting along and in good spirits, content to let the strange, almost familial interactions send waves of peace over him. Tonight is a different story. The sound of Pidge drawling about some sort of tech plans while she waves her hands through the air to illustrate her point is driving Keith up the wall. He has to constantly suppress the urge to scream at her to stop. 

Lance, more attuned to Keith than ever, notices his discomfort. He shoots a sympathetic look Keith’s way, but even that irritates him. His food disgusts him, the sound of his friends is making him livid, and even the feel of his own skin is making him sick.

His head pounds, matching tempo with his pulse, which has climbed steadily since his fit of anxiety has started. Every red hot flash of everything has him tightening his muscles with the desire to bolt, just to try to escape it. He knows he can’t- it’s something inside of him, a part of his brain that’s always been like this, always messed everything up for him. 

At the very least, he doesn’t have to put the other Paladins through this. He pushes his food around and makes a lame excuse about not feeling well to be able to leave the table.

“Aw, Keith! We were gonna mess with the goop dispenser to get different flavors!” Hunk pouts, genuinely disappointed that Keith won’t be joining them, although Keith can’t imagine why. 

“Do you need some Space Advil or something?” Pidge offers, sincere despite the teasing smirk that stretches across her face. She’s made it a running joke to add “Space” in front of anything that they have an equivalent of an Earth, which is basically everything they use in their day-to-day lives. 

“No,” he says flatly, trying to force himself to sound normal but knowing he’s failing. “I’m just going to lay down. Enjoy your dinner and whatever, don’t worry about it.” He raises a hand as he leaves, not looking back, keeping a cool air of nonchalance about him. It’s not until he’s several meters away from the kitchen that he breaks into a sprint. His chest heaves with the onslaught of the combined exertion of physical activity and panic. 

His door automatically slides open to greet him- a handy addition Pidge has made to the Castle of Lions, but not until after she had shit all over basically every single one of its features. “This particle barrier is weaker than a teenager’s will to live. The security system might as well be the buckle on Lance’s belt, it’s not keeping jack shit contained. The convenience features are about as fucking convenient as a match in Hell…” The list had gone on and on, making the castle itself the butt of many jokes for weeks to come. 

He makes sure the door is shut and locked before letting himself glance around the small room, eyes roaming and unable to find anything of interest to settle on. Good. He needs something bland, something so visually uninteresting and boring that it will force his brain back into submission. 

It's silent except for the occasional tick or sigh of machinery working to keep everything running smoothly behind the walls. These noises aren’t exactly welcome, but there’s so little of everything else going on that he can handle them.  

He doesn’t bother taking off his boots when he makes his way to the bed, something everyone always heckles him about. Not like it matters. No one will see him now. It’s his room, anyway. He does, however, strip off his jacket and fold it carefully at the foot of his bed before laying down and curling into a ball, fighting to make himself as physically small as possible until he can regain control. 

The rustle of fabric against his body sends phantom bugs darting across his skin, making him ache and itch. He’s honestly not sure what’s worse, the thought of staying still and feeling the sensations that are driving him crazy or the thought of stripping down. In the end, it’s the clothes and the bugs that are just a manifestation of his discomfort that he can’t take. 

He sits up, takes a deep breath, then another. Boots first, then socks. Shirt or pants? He decides on the pants, throwing them across the room violently, wincing when the belt buckle clanks against the wall with a sharp noise. He hesitates, hands gripping the hem of his shirt before swearing and pulling it off.

“It’s just a fucking shirt. Calm down. Deal with it,” he scolds himself. It joins the pants on the floor, rumpling at the base of the wall. Maybe this will be enough to get the bugs off of him.

He reclines again, holding his breath, waiting. The pins and needles return and he almost wants to cry. He sorely wishes that for once in his life, everything that was wrong with him would at least cooperate so he wasn’t hit with everything at once. 

Boxers join the pile, nearly ripping with how fast he takes them off. His fingers slip under the edge of his binder and he lets out a tiny sigh, removing it slowly and carefully. He hates the way he can feel it peeling away from his skin, how his body readjusts itself in the absence of the constricting fabric. It joins the jacket at the foot of the bed, too precious to just be thrown as if it were any other article of clothing.

He stares down at himself, sickened with what he sees. Every part of his brain is screaming  _ not right, not right, not right _ at him, at his curves and softness and feminine qualities, at his breasts and what’s between his legs.

“It doesn’t matter,” he insists. It’s a lie, but it doesn’t matter either. He just has to… get over it. Like everything else. Just get over it. He can deal with this. He’s always dealt with it. It’s not like it’s getting harder to deal with every day, it’s not like the constant guilt of not telling the rest of his team is eating away at him, not at all. Every part of this is tainting his life, confusing him and making him angry over things that no one has any control of.

The others catch him staring at Lance’s chest if he takes his shirt off in training, tease him to “keep it in your pants, Keith.” Except it’s not lust that’s making him stare, at least, not the kind they’re thinking of. It’s envy, jealousy, even anger. Envy over how perfect he is, how he came out looking and feeling right. Jealousy; Keith is jealous he can’t have it too. He’s angry; angry that he has to be stuck in a body that’s not fucking  _ his _ while no one else on the ship has any issues.

That’s not true, his brain reminds him. Shiro is occasionally so unsettled by his own arm that he will avoid using it if he can, despite being right-handed. He has panic attacks over the fact that it’s part of him, that it’s Galra and it’s part of him and he can’t get it off. 

Plus, there’s Pidge. With a messed up brain, just like Keith, confused about the body she’s stuck in. She says she’s not a boy, but she doesn’t feel like a girl either. She’s confided in Keith before, admitting that she sometimes wished she had a body that was completely androgynous, a blank slate where any genitals should be. Just… a person. Not a boy or a girl. Just a person. 

But that’s different. At least she isn’t disgusted by herself. Shiro can’t help the fact he was taken prisoner, that they took his own damn arm away from him. Pidge is content with being female most of the time. The rest of the team knows about how Pidge feels and accommodates for it by doing things like talking about the benefits of Galra tech in front of Shiro or switching between “she” and “they” pronouns for Pidge. 

The only one who knows about Keith is Lance. The guilt of his secret eats away at him, and he feels like he’s obligated to tell the rest of them. Lance insists that he doesn’t have to, that even if he did they wouldn’t view him any differently. He claims it’s not even important anyway, but he’s wrong in that aspect at the very least. It is important, but just not in the way Lance is thinking. 

He didn’t even suspect a thing at first. He assumed the lack of boners on Keith’s part during makeouts was due to him being asexual, or something of a similar nature. He let Keith know, completely out of the blue, that they didn’t have to go any further if he didn’t want to, or they could even take a step back. Keith had been confused, to say the least, but it wasn’t long until it clicked.

He was stuck between a rock and a hard place. Tell Lance he was uncomfortable, or ace, or whatever? Or tell him the truth? It was a difficult decision, but one he knew he would have to make eventually.

He definitely didn’t want the stereotypical “he walks in on me changing and finds out I’m trans” moment to happen. He hated how trans people had been portrayed in media and fiction, how they never made the choice to come out to everyone, how they were always either walked in on when they were changing or told one person and had the secret spread around. It honestly disgusted him, and in his mind, discouraged trans people from letting people know that they weren’t cis.

So he finally bit the bullet and told him. He had been surprised, to say the least, and had initially thought it was a prank. It took Keith pointing out that he wasn’t the one to play pranks to get Lance to consider the fact he was being serious, and finally showing him his binder to convince him completely. 

He had been so nervous that Lance would treat him differently- Lance always hit on girls, on feminine aliens who were so obviously pretty that it hurt, who would be beauty queens down on Earth. Which of course made Keith question if Lance saw through it all in the first place, and dated Keith because he wasn’t a “real guy.” 

“Dude,” Lance told him, peeling a fruit and propping his feet up on a coffee table. “I didn’t even know what was between your legs. How could I hit on you for being a girl if I thought you had a penis?”

Keith noticed that Lance seemed to be careful to never drop the words he knew would make Keith cringe- never explicitly mentioned what made Keith not right in his own eyes. Lance had assured him that he most definitely did not mind whatever parts Keith came with, but he knew how Keith was. 

Female-exclusive issues were always danced around- if it came up in the group, Lance tended to change the subject. Keith could only assume no one batted an eye because they were aware of how Pidge felt, but he couldn’t be sure. Not that he would think that Lance would purposefully let Keith’s secret slip, but there was always that paranoid, anxious part of his brain that insisted he was missing something, the part of his brain that swore everyone else knew something that he didn’t know. The whole situation felt like some kind of fucked-up ballet, where Keith was forced to do demented pirouettes around what was troubling him.

Keith feels a twinge of pain blossom through his lower back and groans. Fucking cramps. Great. Now he has to deal with the low-grade pain for the next two days until it actually starts. Just what he needed for a bout of dysphoria, yet another reminder that he wasn’t what he wanted to be, that his body wasn’t what it was supposed to be. 

Despite all of his reservations at admitting to anything that labelled him as female, he can’t help but smile a little bit at Lance’s first experience with Keith being on his period. Now that Lance knew, Keith could afford to let his façade slip a little bit around him during that time of the month. He could lie around in bed and not have Lance bat an eye, whine and stuff his face with whatever he wanted without concern or confusion. 

Lance had done the opposite of what Keith expected- he had honestly expected Lance to be reserved and unsure, surprised at Keith’s differences. Instead he was a grade A boyfriend, hunting down sweets to surprise Keith with, lending Keith his comfiest pajamas and hoodies, even going as far as to build a pillow pile on the floor of Lance’s room so they could cuddle and watch movies together, wrapped up in a cocoon of blankets. 

Come to think of it, Lance might realize the date and chalk Keith’s exit up to that. If that was the case, Keith needs to be on guard for whenever Lance decided to show up. 

He’s feeling a little calmer now, which is good. His skin still prickles with uncertainty and he can’t look down for more than a few seconds without feeling revolted, but he’s doing a lot better. Not good enough to go out and rejoin everyone, though. He needs a night to himself. 

It’s been awhile since he’s actually had one of those. He tends to either spend his time with Lance, just simply being in the same room together, or hanging out with Pidge until they both pass out from exhaustion. Honestly, he’s unsure of what to do with the free time. Train? No, too taxing. Read? No, that was more of Pidge or Hunk’s thing. Plus, the letters mixed themselves up half the time anyway.  Besides just lying there, Keith couldn’t think of much else he could do. 

He sits up and glances around his room, purposefully maintained to make it as blank as it was on the day he moved in. Everyone else had added little things to personalize their space, photos and trinkets, just reminders of who they were. Keith wasn’t one for keepsakes. 

A chime sounds through his room, startling him- it’s the castle version of knocking, another one of Pidge’s additions. 

“Who is it?” he calls, wincing when his voice comes out hoarse as if he’s been crying. 

“It’s your faaaaaavorite boyfriend!” Lance’s voice is muffled by the door, but he sounds gleeful. He’s probably brought something to try and cheer Keith up, although Keith is unsure as to what it could be.

“Are you alone?”

“Of course. Pidge and Hunk are too busy dicking with the goop machine, and I’m pretty sure Shiro and Allura actually are banging this time.”

“Access granted,” Keith says to the room, unlocking his door and opening it with a whoosh without even moving from his bed.

“I brought something that tastes pretty similar to chocolate ice cream!” Lance hoists a container into the air, triumphant and smug, but freezes when he catches sight of Keith.

Oh yeah. He’s naked. Fuck, he forgot about that. 

“Sounds good,” he says, faking an air of casualness and glancing away towards his pile of clothes. “You gonna come in before someone walks by?”

“Yeah! Yeah, yeah, sorry man!” He turns and fiddles with the keypad. The back of his neck is bright red. Keith smirks and puts a hand over his mouth, stifling a chuckle. Although he’s still pretty uncomfortable being naked in general, Lance and his embarrassment make Keith feel just a bit better about it. 

“So, um, yeah! Chocolate ice cream goop, and, uh, I brought a tablet if you wanted to try watching a movie? Unless there was… something else you wanted to do?”  

Keith smiles at him. “No, that’s fine. Come sit with me.” 

Lance joins him with no hesitation, hands him the bowl and a couple of spoons, then fishes the touchscreen out from his pocket. “There’s this weird sappy alien romance movie that Allura was talking about, but apparently it’s hella raunchy. So hey, alien biology!” 

Both of them have an almost perverse pleasure with finding out about alien biology- specifically their junk. To be fair, the whole team does, excepting Shiro, or so he claims. Allura chalks it up to all of their “unchecked adolescent hormones and a morbid curiosity for things that should be left alone.”  Pidge had looked her dead in the eyes and said: 

“Sex is fucking gross.” 

Hunk, Keith, and Lance broke out into snorts and giggles, and Shiro coughed into his elbow. Allura simply rolled her eyes, ignoring Coran’s chime of “Agreed!” from behind her. 

“Ooh boy, alien dicks. I’m so fucking excited.” Keith says this with a deadpan that makes Lance chuckle. 

“Real funny, Keith.”

“No seriously, can’t you tell? Raging boner here.” He points towards his crotch and Lance gasps, trying not to laugh. 

“Cut it out. I’m trying to avoid a raging boner.” 

Keith raises an eyebrow. “Wow. Triggered.” 

Lance punches him in the arm and props the tablet on his thigh, where both of them can see it. The movie starts with a black screen and white text that neither of them can read fading into the screen. It glows before dissipating, leaving a trail of sparks in its wake.

“I prefer the Fox Entertainment intro,” Lance mutters in a snobbish tone. Keith grins and scoots closer, pressing his side against Lance’s. 

The movie has been subtitled in English so that they can understand it- Pidge and Allura had worked together to make a translation program so that the Paladins wouldn’t be stuck scratching their head at all the interactions going on around them. Not only did it caption anything in a foreign language, the two of them had also installed a similar version of the software into the Paladin’s helmets, so that they could understand and communicate in foreign languages without even realizing it. It was, overall, an extremely helpful addition. However, it was always startling when Keith forced himself to actually listen to the sounds his throat was making and realized he was chirping and clicking and growling like a bug. 

It seems like an interesting enough movie at first- whatever species the aliens were, they reminded Keith of the aliens that made clones in the Star Wars prequels- they were polyamorous, so the conflict was between three characters instead of just two. It adds another layer to keep the both of them intrigued, but Keith is still having trouble paying attention. He’s too busy watching Lance- how he bites his lip at tense moments, how he occasionally tightens the muscles in his legs, just for the sake of fidgeting. He finds himself just staring, taking everything in, observing the angles and planes of Lance’s face. He’s pleased with what he sees.

The movie was indeed “raunchy”, with uncensored sex scenes just twenty minutes in, but considering neither of them were entirely sure what was actually going on it didn’t do anything for either of them. The actual act seemed to be almost purely psychological, with little physical interaction at all, leaving the two boys staring at a pair of aliens holding hands and gasping with increasing urgency. 

“This is stupid,” Lance finally blurts at around the fourth “sex” scene. 

“Agreed,” Keith drones, shifting on the bed to lie on his back next to Lance, not even interested in seeing the screen anymore. “I could think of a lot of better ways to spend my time.”

“Like what?” Lance turns off the screen and joins Keith, staring at the ceiling.

“I don’t know.” He turns to his side and watches Lance. “Stuff.”

“Stuff? Very descriptive, Keith.”

He sighs and rolls back over. “Nevermind.”

“Oh. Stuff?”

Keith notices the blush crawling across Lance’s face and bites his lip to keep from laughing. “Yeah, stuff.”

It’s comical how they dance around the subject, how neither of them will just come out and say it- “I want to have sex with you.” Simple words, but words that neither of them have said in such explicit and uncensored language. 

It’s also puzzling how Keith can jump so quickly from dysphoria and anxiety to wanting to jump Lance’s bones. He’s never understood it. It must just be something about Lance, his presence, the way he affects Keith, but it’s not something Keith can figure out. 

“You could have said something,” he mumbles, bashful. “I feel kind of stupid. I mean, I came in here and you’re-“ he waves a hand around in a vague motion. “But I didn’t think that was what you meant by it, feel me?”

“It wasn’t,” Keith admits. “I was feeling… gross.”

“Please don’t tell me that movie actually did something for you.”

Keith throws his head back and laughs. Lance stares, wonder in his eyes. It’s little things like this that make him remember exactly how he feels about Keith, and why he loves him in the first place.

Keith turns and catches his gaze, and that’s all it takes for them both to be there. Sometimes, that’s all it takes; it’s all in a look, a look that conveys all the passion and longing that neither of them want or even need to put into words. Suddenly, it doesn’t matter who they are or where they are or what parts they have. All that matters is each other.

Lance shifts, balancing his weight above Keith so that they can kiss. Keith lets out a tiny sigh of contentment and runs his hands through Lance’s hair- it’s still short, but it’s getting shaggy. Soon he’ll be whining and bugging Hunk to help him trim it. Lance can cut anyone’s hair except for his own, it seems. Keith actually likes Lance’s hair shaggier; not even for the look of it, but for something else in particular.

He gives it a quick tug and feels Lance take in a sharp breath and tighten the muscles of his back and thighs. Keith chuckles and grins up at him impishly, delighted by the red dusting Lance’s face. 

“Asshole,” Lance spits at him. 

“Just doing my job,” Keith says with false innocence. “What, don’t you like it?”

Lance groans, exasperated. “You are literally the worst.”

“If I’m the worst, I could always just kick you out.” 

Lance pales, because both of them know Keith is being serious. He has kicked Lance out before and would do it again in a heartbeat if he wanted to, leaving Lance to a night with only his hand to keep him company. 

“Please don’t.” 

Keith’s grin widens and he leans up to press a chaste kiss to Lance’s jaw. “Then stop complaining.”

“I’m not complaining. Who’s complaining? Not me, nope, never. I, Lance McClain, have the best boyfriend in the entire history of the universe.” 

Keith laughs again and runs his hands down Lance’s back, feeling the other boy’s shoulder blades peaking like mountains through the fabric of his shirt. “That’s a lie, because clearly I have the best boyfriend in the entire history of the universe.” It’s disgustingly sappy but it makes them both smile like idiots, pleased just to be with the other. 

“So,” Lance says, tone still teasing but subject more serious. “How far?”

“How far what?” Keith arches his back and presses their chests together, the cloth of Lance’s shirt rough and scratching against his skin. 

“How far do you want to go? Just say stop whenever, ok?”

Keith chuckles and drops back down to the bed, a devious glint in his eye. “You think we’re stopping?”

Lance’s eyes go, impossibly, even wider. “Jesus, Keith. Who’s slipping Viagra into your space goo?” 

Keith breaks into snorts, letting his head roll back against his pillow and his eyes crinkle shut. “Jesus fucking Christ,” he chokes out, bringing his hands up to cover his mouth and muffle the hysterical giggles that are forcing their way up his throat like carbonation in a bottle of soda. He laughs, completely oblivious to the environment around him. Lance takes advantage of Keith’s temporary incapacitation, leaning down and pressing a kiss to his collarbones. Keith feels the pressure of his lips and jolts, surprised by the contact. He glances down and Lance glances up. They lock gazes for a moment, Lance raises an eyebrow, and Keith nods quickly. He sighs, pleased, and Lance can’t help but smile. Keith’s body relaxes and his muscles go limp as Lance slowly trails kisses down, leaving a smoldering path of heat in his wake. It isn’t until his mouth closes around one of Keith’s nipples that he lets out a tiny gasp and arches upward to meet him, breath coming in quick little heaves. Lance grazes his teeth against the pebbled skin and Keith shudders, pressing his fingers firmly against his own mouth in an attempt to keep quiet. When Lance looks up at him, his expression is downright sinful. Keith opens his mouth to say something but Lance rolls Keith’s nipple between his teeth, making him squeak and turn red. 

“Lance,” he whines, running a hand through the other boy’s hair. 

Lance pulls away and rests the side of his head between Keith’s breasts. “Yeah?”

“C’mon, you know what I meant.” 

He winks and slides his hands down Keith’s sides, to his hips, where he traces designs into Keith’s pale skin with his fingernails. Keith holds his breath, anticipation swelling in his stomach as he watches Lance concocting a plan. “Do I have your permission to go down on you?” 

“Of course,” Keith assures him, breathless. “Anything.” 

They both know it’s not often that Keith isn’t ok with something Lance wants to do, but Lance still asks permission every time. He never surprised Keith with kisses until Keith told him he liked it, always asked before removing any clothes or doing anything that could make Keith uncomfortable, and is always sweet and gentle and patient. It was somewhat surprising, considering his bravado and constant flirtation out in public. At the same time, it should have been expected. Keith always noticed Lance putting others above himself, even before the two were dating or even friendly with each other.

Keith takes a few steadying gulps of air, listening to Lance shift and move above him. He feels Lance’s warm breath against his thighs, the sensitive skin crawling with the feeling. He bites his lip as Lance’s nose brushes the trail of dark pubic hair, swallows thickly as he feels Lance’s fingers tighten and grip at the outside of Keith’s hips. Just when Keith thinks he can’t wait any longer, Lance swipes his tongue, languid and hot and wet against Keith, right where he wants it. Phantom tingles and pangs of heat spread from between Keith’s legs and he shifts, covering his face and feeling it burn behind his palm. 

Lance is nothing but thorough, taking his sweet time. Keith whimpers, his stomach feeling as if it’s being pulled through a drain. His thoughts are cloudy and his eyes are hazed, not seeing the texture of the ceiling he’s staring at. The best part is, Lance isn’t doing this because he feels obligated to. He’s doing this because it’s something he genuinely enjoys, not because he knows he’ll get something in return or because Keith has the “right parts” but because he’s making Keith feel good, making Keith squirm beneath him with just his mouth. Despite all of Keith’s insecurities and everything that trips him up, he knows that regardless of anything that happens Lance loves him for who he is. He can let his walls down. He doesn’t have to guard himself all the time. 

Keith’s completely exposed and for once in his life, it’s fine. It’s good, He’s safe and cared for and accepted, and it’s everything he had ever wanted and then some. 

“Keith… Keith! Are you ok?” Lance shoots up from between his legs, cupping Keith’s cheek. “Dude, you’re crying!”

“What?” Keith fumbles to rise on his elbows but fails with Lance on top of him. “No I’m not.”

“You are!” He wipes away a tear with his finger and holds the tip in front of Keith’s nose, showing him the wetness. “Do you promise you’re ok? Did I do something wrong?”

“No!” Keith wipes at his face, cheeks turning even pinker. “I just… I feel good. Really good. I promise, it’s a good cry.” 

Lance brushes part of Keith’s bangs back from his face before leaning in and pressing their lips together in a kiss. Their tongues curl against each other hesitantly, and Keith can taste himself in Lance's mouth. He lets out a low moan at the realization, pushing his hips upward to try and gain some sort of friction against Lance. Lance understands instantly. He curls a hand around Keith’s hip to support the smaller boy before roaming even lower with his other hand.

He whimpers, the sound muted by the press of their lips. Lance swallows up the noises through the kiss as he strokes his fingers against Keith, teasing in all the right places. Heat licks up Keith’s spine and he breaks the kiss, unable to breathe in anything other than gasps.

"Mm... doing ok?" Lance asks him, eyes dark and watchful.

"Mmhmm." Keith doesn't trust his own voice enough to not slip into distinctly feminine squeaks and moans, so he stays as silent as possible. He grapples for the neck of Lance's shirt, gripping it with white knuckled hands and pulling him into an obscene, messy, open-mouthed kiss. They're nipping at each other's lips and sucking each other's tongues, all restraint thrown to the floor with Keith's clothes. Keith trembles beneath Lance's touch, rolling his head back and whining, pressing against Lance’s fingers and tightening around him.

"Fuck," Lance mumbles. "You're so hot, fuck, Keith."

"Lance, Lance," he whispers back, voice cracking and reaching octaves that are higher than what Lance normally hears from him- Keith doesn't even care to make the conscious effort to lower his voice anymore. He’s coming  undone so quickly that it’s making Lance throb with excitement. He nuzzles at Keith’s neck, kissing, suckling, and lapping at the little pink marks that he’s leaving behind. The combined sensations of sharp teeth and soft warmth at Keith’s neck as well as the fingers down below are making him dizzy, forcing his breath to come in harsh pants.

"Shit-ah!" He arches his back with a soft cry and wraps his arms around Lance's neck, nails digging into the skin. He lets out a few choice words in Japanese, words that Shiro taught him back when they first started at the Garrison, when he was still devil-may-care and a lot more likely to get into trouble with their superior officers.

"What's that mean?" Lance slows and Keith complains, scowling bitterly. Now is definitely not the time for a cultural exchange language lesson. 

"Doesn’t matter,” he gasps. "Just fuck me. Lance, please."

If Lance thought his groin couldn’t get any hotter, he was wrong. "Ok! Um, condoms, those are a thing, where are they?" 

Keith groans and throws his head back before gesturing to the small nightstand. "You'd think you would know where they were!"

"You always move them!"

He's too out of it to argue back; instead he watches Lance as he reaches across the bed and rummages through the drawer. He tosses one to the bed and follows it up by pulling his shirt off and throwing it by Keith's in one smooth motion. Keith stares, a dark feral hunger in his eyes that makes Lance shiver. 

"You ok?" He asks again. 

Keith nods and reaches out for him, gesturing for Lance to rejoin him on the bed. 

"Give me a minute. I still have my pants on." 

Keith rolls his eyes. Lance stands and starts fumbling with his buckle, babbling like he always ends up doing. 

"I just... I'm so glad I have you. Not just because, you know, we're about to have sex. But because you just mean so much to me and you trust me with so much stuff and it's like, I don't even understand why? Fuck, Keith. I love you man. Sorry, I'm rambling."

"Keep talking," he hears Keith whisper. He pries a leg out of his jeans, having finally removed his belt. He turns to ask Keith why he wants Lance to keep talking, but freezes when his eyes roam down Keith's body.

His legs are parted and he's fingering himself, meeting Lance's gaze with no hesitation. Lance’s breath traps itself in his chest, pressure building in the pit of his stomach as he watches the other boy on the bed.

"Why'd you stop?" Keith asks, slowing down and starting to sit up a little.

"No reason," Lance squeaks, turning back around to try and downright rip his pants off. "Um, just letting you know, that was really hot. Like, really fucking hot. I think I almost just came."

Keith chuckles, and Lance hears him shift and let out a tiny little moan. Lance shivers and makes an obscene, completely not sexy face that he’s glad Keith can’t see. 

"Hurry up," Keith urges quietly. "I need you."  

The other leg practically flies out of his pants and the jeans crumple to the floor like a forgotten toy in the backseat of a mother's minivan. Another shiver of lust rips its way through Lance's body, taking his breath away from him. When he finally turns around and kneels over Keith again, he’s not sure which one of them is breathing harder.

"You weren't wearing underwear? That's gross."  Keith whimpers and ruts upwards, rubbing himself against Lance's bare thigh.

"Okay, literally, you can shut the hell up. It's easier, it's more comfortable, and in situations like this it's clearly more convenient." 

"That's true."  Keith reaches down, runs his hand down the slight curve of Lance's ass before reaching around to cup his balls. Lance shudders violently and Keith raises an eyebrow, a smirk playing at the edges of his lips. 

"Shut up," Lance growls.

"I didn't say anything!"

"I'm covering my ass."

Keith slides his hand back up, giving Lance a squeeze. "No, I am." 

Lance groans at the horrible joke. "Are you honestly pulling a comedian act while we're having sex?"

"Last time I checked, we weren't actually having sex." 

Lance looks down and eyes his thighs, where Keith is rubbing against one side and snaking his fingers around the other. "This looks pretty sexual."

"It's not actual sex though." 

"You could-"

"Lance, I'm telling you now, if you don't start doing something I'm fucking getting up and leaving." 

Lance's eyes widen and he grabs Keith's wrist, moving it away before backing up. Keith grumbles at the lack of friction and lurches up, fully intending to smack Lance in the chest and complain. Instead Lance swoops down, slotting his mouth between Keith’s legs again. It gets Keith to stop complaining and arch his back before groaning loudly and fisting his hands through Lance's hair. 

"Ffff- fuck, fuck, “ Keith swears, legs pulling inwards. Lance can feel Keith's thighs squeezing the side of his head and he lets his eyes slip closed, getting high off a sort of secondhand pleasure. Keith whines, chanting what Lance assumes are more curse words under his breath. Keith clenches his thighs even tighter and shifts forward to attempt to grind against Lance’s face. Lance winces and pulls back slightly, much to Keith’s disappointment. Keith raises his hips, effectively burying his shoulders into the mattress. His mouth falls slack and he squeezes his eyes shut, panting heavily, pressure building in his groin. 

"Lance, Lance, please," he begs and clenches the sheets of his bed in his fists. "P-please, fuck, just- please."

Lance pulls his face away and Keith whines bitterly, opening his mouth to start complaining. Lance cuts him short by slipping two fingers inside of him, much to Keith’s delight. Heat blooms through his core and he writhes, pushing Lance deeper inside of him. He can feel how wet he is against Lance’s fingers, fluids spreading down Lance’s hand and Keith’s thighs.

"You're going to end up finishing from this alone." 

Keith nods, too blissed out to form words. Not like he cares if he ends up finishing soon- Lance is always eager to please, and if Keith is being honest he's probably going to finish more than once anyway. 

Lance adds a third finger and Keith moans loudly, unrestrained and nearing the edge. Lance knows how Keith's body works, honestly better than Keith does himself, and he knows exactly what to do to elicit the most reactions from it. He's curling his fingers just right, biting just hard enough at Keith's collarbones, pressing his body against Keith's in all the right places. It's all swirling together in his skull, a whirlwind of red and heat and lust and love. He arches, Lance pushes, and that's all it takes. His vision swims as his mouth falls open in a silent scream, no sound escaping his lips until his voice finally breaks through with a filthy moan. 

"Jesus," Lance whispers near his ear, voice ragged. "Jesus, Keith, you're so amazing. So beautiful, I want you, I need you." 

Keith whimpers as Lance pulls his fingers out. Keith wraps his arms around Lance’s neck and pulls him close, trying to assuage the painfully empty feeling that he’s left with.

"Keith, please," Lance whispers again. His words have a hard desperate edge that already has pangs of heat shooting through Keith once again. He reaches down, fumbling blindly until he feels Lance's hip bone jutting beneath his hand. He follows it down, trailing his fingers through his happy trail, before finally finding his destination and wrapping his hand around the base of Lance's cock. Lance sucks in a breath over top of Keith, already giving the slightest of twitches in his hand. He's stiff, heavy, tip wet with pre. 

"Mm... Keith..." Keith lets his eyes dart upwards, absorbing the details of Lance's face. He's chewing on his bottom lip as if it were a gummy candy. His face has an all-over pink tint, darkest at his cheeks and the tip of his nose, like he's drunk off their love. His eyes are closed in an almost serene fashion; the lids and creases have just the slightest tones of lilac, transparent over his warm brown skin. 

"Hey, Lance."

His eyes slip open, the blue inviting and dark like the ocean. "Yeah?"

"Nothing. Just... I love you." 

His face brightens- not like a sudden ray of sun, but a slow warmth that spreads across his face like embers in a fireplace. 

"I love you too."

 

There's something so deeply satisfying about lying in bed after sex with someone you trust. It's one of the most natural and fulfilling things in the world; at least, it is to Keith. Lance is snoring quietly, his head resting on Keith's chest in just a way so that Keith can barely see his eyebrows and the bridge of his gawky nose. The weight of his head is comfortable and familiar, and Keith finds himself stroking his fingers through Lance's hair more often than he's not. 

Lance shifts and murmurs, curling his legs in just a little tighter. The smooth skin of his calves rubs against Keith's prickly ones- Lance shaves, Keith doesn't. The ironic part of it is that Lance is the biggest diva on this whole ship, including Allura. 

He really should be sleeping, like Lance is, but for some reason his mind keeps drifting back to the same path of thought. Despite his current situation, he's stuck thinking of Pidge, as strange as it may seem. It's not as if he's thinking of Pidge the same way he's thinking of Lance, he's just thinking about Pidge and himself in general. 

The smallest Paladin is always bitching about how she’s the only one who could possibly understand the situation that she’s in, with gender identity. About how nice it would be to have someone to relate to on the subject, instead of being stuck in a "total sausage fest... and you too, Allura. Damn cis people everywhere."

Except Keith's not cis. No one on this ship could possibly understand better how Pidge feels, except she has no clue. Maybe Lance is right, and Keith should tell the team about being trans. Except... he doesn't have to tell them all at once, right? He can start off small. Besides, Pidge is probably Keith's best friend on the ship, excepting Lance. Not that Keith didn't get along well with Shiro, but there were some things he simply couldn't relate to like Pidge could. 

Plus, not telling Pidge about him being trans was almost like lying, which Keith didn't like to do. He may have done some not so great things in his life, but he prided himself on his honesty above all else. It would be one thing if it simply never came up, but Keith had plenty of opportunities to tell Pidge. 

His mind is stuck, wearing a path into his brain, constantly repeating "Do I tell? I should tell." 

By the time he's ready to fall asleep, he's made his decision. Even though the thought of it sends his heart hammering, he's determined to trust Pidge and tell her the truth.

 

Of course, when morning comes, it's a little too easy to chicken out. There's so many excuses, so many distractions, so many other things he could be doing rather than causing himself a panic attack. Lance notices Keith's off behavior, but doesn't say anything, opting to pepper his cheeks and shoulders with kisses instead, promising that whatever is bugging him will probably turn out fine.

He gains some of his courage back, but when they leave to join the rest of the team for breakfast, Pidge is nowhere in sight. Hunk says that he checked the lab and found her asleep, upper half sprawled against the glass of the desk and the lights still set to their night setting. Since everyone is aware of Pidge's poor sleeping habits, they're all more than pleased to let her rest. Shiro disappears for a few minutes to carry her to bed so she doesn't get yet another backache. 

While Keith is glad that she’s getting some rest, he can't help but be a little agitated. Literally nothing ever worked out for him the way he wanted to- he had planned on tagging along with her after breakfast and making some casual conversation until the two of them were out of earshot, then just coming right out and saying it. Not gonna happen now. Who knew how long it would be until he had another opportunity? There was no telling how long Pidge would be out for. Once she fell asleep, she tended to sleep hard and long, and God help whoever was stupid enough to wake her up.  

The turn of events further sours Keith's mood, and now he's stuck skulking and pouting around the halls to try and pass the time.  He avoids his usual haunts, not in the proper state of mind to really be around anyone until he gets to talk to Pidge. All he can focus on is the Big Reveal, how he's going to word everything, Pidge's potential reactions, all of it.  The hyper focus leaves him feeling jittery, although his multiple visits to the kitchen for coffee probably is contributing to it as well. 

All in all, it's another two days before he even catches a glimpse of Pidge. She crosses the hall, bleary eyed, and he swears his heart stops.  He was just chomping at the bit to tell her, and now she's right in front of him but he's frozen in place. Ice drips through his veins and corrodes his muscles. She's oblivious, and walks past him without even registering that he's there. She turns the corner towards the kitchen and he swears sharply in Korean.

"Keith?" Her head pokes out from around the wall like a gopher in a lawn. "You ok?"

"You, I, where-" he inhales sharply through gritted teeth. "Can we talk?"

Her eyebrows pull down and she rolls her eyes. "Oh boy, what did I miss?"

"Nothing. This has always.. I just..." he sputters, searching for the right words as his brain wheels ahead. "Can we talk?" he repeats. 

"Yeah, ok. Meet me back in my room, ok? The door should be unlocked. Just wait for me inside."

He gives her a curt nod and turns on his heel, forcing himself to turn right towards her room rather than left towards his own, which his brain is screaming at him to do.  Every muscle in his body is straining with the tension of his decision, and he honestly wants nothing more than to run back to his room and cry in the dark until he's too exhausted to stay awake anymore. Instead he continues onward, not looking back to see if Pidge is standing there staring at him. 

Pidge's room is cluttered per usual, a few articles of laundry forgotten on the floor and some empty cups scattered around the room. It's much warmer than the rest of the castle, and when he glances towards the corner to see some sort of haphazard machinery he understands why- the little shit has built a space heater for herself and left everyone else to suffer in the castle's unforgiving cold. 

He pulls the rumpled sheets up from the foot of the bed, smoothing them out as best as he can manage before easing himself onto the bed as slowly and carefully as humanly possible. An analog clock ticks on the wall, seeming to taunt him. The space between each tick gets slower and slower, each twitch of the second hand getting louder and louder, until he’s waiting an eternity every second. 

He realizes with a start that he's drawn his knees up to his chest and wrapped his arms around his legs, rocking back and forth. The motion does little to calm him but he continues regardless, desperate for the mind-numbing repetition. 

Memories tumble out of the last time he came out to someone- not to Lance, which for some reason was so much easier to do, but to other people. Harsh words, harsh accusations. Girl, confused, tomboy, liar. Not a real boy. Confused girl. Girl. Girl girl girl girl girl-

He hunches over and digs the heels of his palms into his eyes. This is stupid, it was a stupid idea. Why would he even want to tell, anyway? It's just going to make Pidge think less of him in the long run. He should just get up and leave now, claim he sorted out whatever the problem was if she asks about it later. It's no big deal, just get up, leave.

The door hisses open and he jumps, throwing himself further back into the bed. Pidge is there in the doorway, framed by the light, eyes wide and watching, asking him if he's ok, warm concern laced through her voice like a trail of honey into a hot drink.

"I'm fine," he chokes out. "I figured it out, I should go." He lurches up but Pidge protests, rushing forward to push at his shoulders so he has no choice but to stay on the bed. 

"Keith, calm down a second. What's going on?"

"Nothing, it's fine, I'm fine."

"You're not fine," she says, simultaneously sharp but gentle. "Something is clearly wrong here. Is it me? Did I do something?"

“No,” he insists. "It's not you, it's ok-"

"Keith. It's not ok, you're not ok, but that's ok, you're human. You came here to talk to me and we'll do that, and it'll be okay. Tell me what you need to, and if you need a minute, that's fine too."

His thoughts are frayed and scattered like a shredded piece of fabric instead of the orderly sentences he had previously arranged them into. He sputters, opens his mouth, and closes it before graciously taking Pidge's offer. He tries to force his thoughts back into nice, neat little compartments in his brain while she sits.

Pidge doesn't prod, or stare, or try to rush him, which he appreciates. Instead, she sits down next to him, close but not too close, before scrolling through her tablet as if he wasn't even there. All in all, they sit in silence for about five minutes before he finally unsticks his tongue from the roof of his mouth,

"I wanted to tell you something."

"I could gather that. Just calm down, whatever it is, you can tell me, alright?"

"Ok," he says, shaky. "I don't really know how to say it."

"Just say it like it is," she offers with a shrug. "That's typically easiest." 

"Yeah," he agrees, playing with the hem of his shirt. "You're right. It normally is."

The two of them wait, quiet, testing the metaphorical waters. Keith's stomach twists, cruel, unforgiving, a painful reminder of his unspoken words. They're right there, poised on the tip of his tongue as if they're doing some sort of demented circus act in his mouth. He's the only thing holding himself back. 

"Um... you know how you're always complaining about everyone else on the ship being cis?"

"Yeah..." Pidge says slowly, now watching Keith with a wary eye. "What about it?"

"You're wrong." 

As soon as the words are out he realizes it was the wrong thing to say. Pidge's brows pull down and her face sours- there's nothing she hates more than being told she’s wrong. 

"Keith, that's kind of a dick thing to say. I think I would know if I wasn't the only non-cis person on the ship. If you're just here to gossip, or God forbid tell me I'm wrong about my own gender identity-“

"No," he cuts her off. "I didn't mean it like that, fuck, I'm sorry, shit, I just..." Keith buries his face in his hands and shudders, berating himself. He's doing it all wrong, this isn't what he planned at all. 

"Keith, I don't understand," Pidge says bitterly. He can tell she hates admitting there's something she doesn't get, but at least she's not getting even angrier and throwing him out. 

"I'm.... I'm not cis," he finally manages to whisper. 

Her eyebrows disappear behind her bangs and Pidge falls silent, eyes already glazed over with intense thought. 

"Genderfluid?" Pidge blurts. 

"No."

"... Agender?" 

"No," he sighs. "I'm trans." As soon as he admits it, it's as if a weight has fallen off his chest. In spite of the absence of it, a boulder of guilt settles itself in his stomach. 

Impossibly, Pidge's eyes open even wider. "I.... had no idea," she admits. "Honestly."

He shrugs and doesn't meet her eyes, instead staring at the shine of his leather boots in the harsh artificial lighting. 

"Does anyone know?" Pidge asked quietly. 

"Lance. And now you. That's it."

"Thank you for telling me."

"I didn't like lying about it."

Pidge lets Keith wind down from his prior anxiety while Keith lets her brain work ahead, filing away pieces of information and sorting through potential questions. 

"How far in transitioning did you get?" 

It's an honest curiosity behind Pidge's words, not a malicious intent. 

"Not far at all," he admits. "No hormones, or surgery, or any of that. Just a binder and a little bit of a hair and wardrobe change." 

Pidge nods, strangely focused and determined. Probably making sure she didn't remember anything wrong or disregard any information- Pidge was always nuts about new facts, especially those that she could relate to herself. 

"Would you be offended if I asked your birthname?"

Keith is startled by the forwardness of the question. In most trans spaces, asking a deadname would be considered, at best, rude. He knows this, just as anyone immersed in the community would know this. Yet he can tell by Pidge’s wide-eyed look, all innocence and impatience to hear his answer, that she means no harm and simply doesn’t know any better. She probably didn’t start questioning her own identity until after she was in the Garrison, or left Earth. It strikes Keith that she likely has little to no experience with LGBT experiences or norms. 

"Kira," he says quietly. "Kira Eliza Kogane."

"Doesn't suit you," Pidge replies, almost haughty in her tone. "Keith is much more fitting."

He breaks out into a quiet laugh, relieved that none of his worst fears seem to be coming true. “You think so?”

”I know so. You really don’t look like a Kira at all.” 

“You don’t look like a Katie, either,” he offers, voice low and soft. Pidge grins at him, a smile that’s mostly teeth and gums. 

“Good. Neither of us look like our birth names. We’re our own people.”

”Yeah,” he agrees, beginning to mirror her smile. 

 

The next few days are peppered with more questions from Pidge; not anything too taxing for Keith to answer and nothing too personal, but questions that he wasn’t exactly expecting to hear.

“So, you wear a binder, right?” Pidge asks.

He looks up, startled, as he dodges a blow from the gladiator. Now that he’s talked to Pidge, it feels as if his entire body is lighter; he’s responding faster, attacking harder, and focusing better. Damn, he should have talked to her sooner.

“Yeah,” he calls back, sidestepping before bringing the blade of his Bayard down onto the gladiator’s back. Its movements stutter before it falls to the ground, defeated. He orders the room to end the program and the robot’s lights go out. 

“Do you have more than one?” Pidge perches on the edge of one of the tables, drawing up her legs and crossing them so that her feet aren’t dangling. 

”No, just the one I’m wearing.”

“It’s probably not smart to wear it so much. Especially when you’re working out.”

He rolls his eyes and saunters over, sitting next to her on the table but letting his feet stay planted firmly on the white section of the floor. “And how do you think I’m going to explain a pair of tits to someone if they walk in?”

Pidge snorts, caught off guard by Keith’s casual phrasing. He’s becoming more comfortable not only around her, but around Lance too. A few weeks ago he wouldn’t have dreamed of referencing his chest as anything other than a chest, especially not with the word ‘tits’ thrown in. 

“You could just tell whoever it is the truth,” Pidge suggests. Her voice lilts, the tones morphing into something that’s not quite singsonging but is definitely taunting and maybe a little bit patronizing. He stares at her, eyebrows low and chin tilted down. Even without words, his sarcasm is heavy in the air between them.

“Yes, because you saw how wonderfully simple and easy it was for me to come out to you. It’ll be a breeze to do it for everyone else.” His tone is so snarky, dripping with such blatant derision, that Pidge can’t help but wince. 

“Okay, you definitely have a point there. But still, it’s not good for your lungs and your ribs and stuff.” 

“I know,” he sighs, slumping a little bit. As if to remind him of the havoc it’s probably wreaking on his body to wear a binder for hours a day, everyday, the edge of the fabric digs into his ribs. “But what else can I really do?”

”Come out, or at the very least take breaks from wearing your binder,” Pidge says. He gives her another warning look before standing back up. 

“I don’t think I’m ready to come out to everyone else, Pidge. And I take breaks when I can. I don’t wear it at night, or when it’s just me and Lance hanging out by ourselves.”

”I don’t mind if you go without it around me,” Pidge offers. “Also, our Paladin suits should be able to hide your chest. The bodysuits are really compressing and with the chest piece of the armor over the top of it… I mean, you wouldn’t even be able to tell. I know from experience.”

“I’ll remember that, thanks.” He reactivates his Bayard and starts the training program again.

 

A few days later, another question faces Keith. 

“What’s keeping you from telling everyone else?” 

It’s whispered to him after breakfast, as they’re all heading to their respective hangars to run formation drills or something similar. He wasn’t aware that Pidge had followed him out, so the sudden appearance of her voice is more than surprising.

“Fuck,” he swears. “Pidge, don’t sneak up on me like that.”

”Sorry. And I’m not asking to push you, either. I’m just wondering. It’s not like they’d be mad.”

”But they wouldn’t get it like you do. Plus, it would go against what they already know and think about me. I don’t think I’m ready to potentially mess up their viewpoints about who I am.” 

“Fair enough.” Pidge nods matter-of-factly before turning around and rushing down the hall to get to her own Lion.

 

After another few days, Pidge is tracking Keith down again. She rushes through the hall, converse sneakers squeaking against the space-age tile, constantly gnawing at the skin on the inside of her cheek. She needs to find him. This time, tracking him down isn't a matter of sating her own curiosity, but rather a matter of giving him a warning. 

She turns a corner and her shoes respond with an overly loud squawk. The volume in the quiet halls makes her wince; she’s already on edge and unexpected noises like that don’t help. Her eyes rake the doors. As soon as she finds the correct one, she slaps her palm to the scanner outside of Keith’s. The door slides open with an icy breeze. She halts and lets out a string of swears that would make Shiro blush.

His room is empty and dark, cold as well, a sure indicator that he hasn’t been in here all day. There’s a few articles of dirty laundry scattered on the floor: red pajamas, identical to all of the other paladins’ except for color, a pair of boxer shorts, and a random sock that’s caught on the edge of his blanket. 

Pidge stares, confusion muddling her thoughts. He wasn’t in the kitchen, nor was he on the training deck. The navigation room was empty except for the mice. She’s checked everywhere else. As far as she can think, there's nowhere else he could be.

“God damn it,” she grumbles. “Use your head, Pidge. He’s gotta be somewhere. It’s not like he can just step outside for a walk.” 

She steps away to let the door close, the room no longer of any interest to her now that she’s sure that Keith isn’t there. Her brain whirs as she starts pacing aimlessly down the hallway, turning over the possibilities in her head. She continues down the hall, practically screeching to a halt when she thinks she hears Keith's name being laughed out. Lance's door stares her in the face. She pauses and stares back at the door, identical to all of the others in the living quarters. A faint giggle drifts out from inside and she raises her fist to knock. 

Inside, Keith sits on Lance’s floor, head tilted back and leaning against Lance’s legs as the other boy rattles off another story about his home and family. Although he’s smiling, it’s a wistful one, sadness tainting the corners of his eyes. Lance stares at his own hands and fingers, which are intertwined in his lap, while he tells of high school track meets and Halloween parties gone wrong. Keith is more than delighted to listen, not only because he loves getting to hear about Lance’s family and experiences but also because he knows the other boy craves to be back home. Telling stories helps to assuage the homesickness that plagues him, the homesickness that Keith can't even begin to comprehend now that everything he could ever want is with him in space.

They’re both startled by the rapid knocking on the metal door; Lance snaps out of his reverie and Keith bolts upright, already scrambling to grab the hem of his shirt. He freezes, torn between the urge to rip his shirt off to try and replace his binder and the desire to simply try and hide his chest, unsure of which is the better decision. 

“Here,” Lance hisses, tossing his blanket down from his bed. “Use this.”

“Um… it’s me,” Pidge calls quietly through the door. “Am I interrupting some gross makeout session or something?”

Instantly, Keith feels his muscles relax as he slumps. “No,” he responds. “Come on in.”

The door slides open with a quiet push of air and Pidge pokes her head in. Her eyes flick downwards as soon as she sees Keith. It’s just for an instant but he notices it, as well as the slight shift in her expression. 

“Hey guys,” she says nonchalantly, stepping into the room and glancing around. Some part of Keith’s brain registers that she’s never been in Lance’s room before and is taking stock of it, just as he would. “I just wanted to bug Keith again.”

He rolls his eyes and slumps down. “What now?”

“Um…” Pidge stammers. She glances towards the ceiling and Keith sees the tip of her tongue, slick and pink, dart out to brush against the edge of her top lip. “I know I’ve been bugging you about why you won’t tell anyone about…” She accompanies the speech with a vague gesture in the direction of Keith’s unbound chest. “But…”

He sighs and crosses his arms, the back of his neck heating up. “But what?”

”Do you remember the scans from when we first came into the castle?”

Keith lifts an eyebrow and feels his mouth turning down into a scowl. “What about them?”

“Uh. About them. They… scanned a lot of stuff.”

”Pidge. The point, please.”

”Allura just asked me if I knew why your scan registered you as a female.” Pidge blurts the sentence before she can continue to second guess and reword it. She watches him with dread, takes note of the way his eyes widen and his face pales, watches his pupils dilate within seconds. She notices Lance watching him as well. The furrow between his eyebrows that’s only there when he’s worrying about something appears and he reaches out as if he’s going to grab Keith and pull him closer. 

Keith sucks in a deep breath, feeling bile climb the back of his throat and a wave of anxiety burn in his stomach, searing over the insides of his guts and leaving him reeling. He tries to take in another breath and stutters on it, as if his fear has physically manifested in his throat and lungs, trying to prevent him from surviving. He can deal with this. He’s been worrying about this since before he boarded the ship, before he even met the other paladins, for Christ’s sake. He’s always expected this to happen, so why is he acting like this now? He’s frozen in place- shivering and teeth clacking together, but feeling as if he’s about to be burned alive from the inside out.

“It’s okay Keith,” Lance murmurs. “We could tell her it’s a scan error or something, or… we’ll figure something out. It’ll be alright. You’ve got me, and Pidge too. You don’t have to shut yourself up again, okay?”

“I… okay,” Keith chokes out. “Okay.” He swallows and feels his throat bob as if a fork is caught in it.

Lance climbs off the bed and sits next to Keith on the floor. “Are you ok with me touching you?” The words are quiet but Pidge catches them. She stands awkwardly, wrapping her fingers around the opposite wrist and twisting. She wants to support Keith, but she’s unsure of what to do. Should she sit next to him like Lance, or should she just leave? It's obvious he gets touch sensitive when he freaks out, since Lance is asking for permission instead of just assuming, but how is he reacting to Pidge's presence as well? 

Keith nods in response to Lance’s question, even leans in a bit closer to him so that their shoulders are touching. The blue paladin grabs the blanket from Keith’s lap and drapes it over the two of them, murmuring to him all the while. Pidge can’t hear the words this time, but she’s sure they’re something reassuring based simply off Lance’s tone. She feels useless, but she knows this isn't about her. It's about Keith, and making sure he's okay.

“Um.” She clears her throat and the two boys look up at her. “Do… you want me to stay, or…?” 

Keith nods again and reaches a hand out towards her, beckoning. She drops to her knees first, scoots closer before sitting properly. None of them are sure how long the three of them sit there, only that it takes quite a while before Keith is mildly calm again. 

 

The next several days, Keith feels as if he’s walking on eggshells. This is even worse than when he planned to come out to Pidge; every unexpected noise makes him jump, he’s shifty-eyed, and just plain antsy. Hunk teases him, comparing him to a feral cat and asks if he’s on some weird Galra werewolf-esque cycle in relation to a nearby moon. Keith wouldn’t entirely appreciate the joke on a good day, so it’s not unexpected when he snaps at Hunk. 

“Stop fucking comparing everything I do to being Galra,” he hisses out, teeth clenched with frustration. As soon as the words leave his mouth, he realizes how hostile he appears. He’s hunched over as if poised to strike, face pulled back into a snarl. His hands are tensed up, fingers curled into claws. The tips of his ears, which have started slowly growing since his overexposure to quintessence, pull downwards. The sensation is strange and he can feel his cartilage peeking out from the strands of his hair. 

Hunk freezes, the whites of his eyes visible. Some muted part of Keith’s brain whispers to him,  _ he’s open, lunge. You can take him down _ . He straightens up, horrified, and stammers out an apology.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Hunk says, a watered-down version of his usual grin starting to make an appearance. “Maybe you really do have a cycle. You on your period or something?”

This time it’s Keith’s turn to freeze. Even though rationally, he knows there’s no way Hunk could know, he still feels the panic rising within him. He can feel the inner wall he had built against it crumbling, being overcome with fear and paranoia and doubt. It's stabbing carefully placed holes into his barriers, and he wants to let out a desperate, whining moan of distress.

“I…” He forces out a chuckle that sounds fake even to his own ears. “Maybe. I… I gotta go, man.” He needs to leave before the anxiety seeps through the cracks of his weak façade, before he can start panicking in front of Hunk.

“Oh, um, okay man. Sorry about that.” 

“It’s… fine.” 

 

“Keith? Babe?”

“Go away, asshole,” he mutters, throwing a pillow at his open doorway. It hits Lance in the chest before falling to the floor with a muffled thump. 

“I brought you some more of that alien soda stuff.”

”Okay, nevermind, you can come in.” 

Lance laughs, light and airy, before entering and turning on the light. He double checks to make sure the door slides shut behind him before dropping unceremoniously onto the foot of Keith’s bed. The other boy grumbles at the disturbance but sits up, giving Lance a sleepy glare. His hair is ruffled and snarled together, messed by his fitful sleeping habits. 

“How ya feeling?”

”Shitty.” His voice is slurred from his grogginess and he’s bleary-eyed. Lance feels the corners of his mouth twitching as he fights off a smile.

“You look adorable.”

”Shut up,” Keith groans, holding out his hand for the bottle of soda. Lance chuckles before complying and handing over to him, watching with amusement as he chugs down half of it. 

“Hunk told me to say he’s sorry… again.” 

Keith barely manages to stifle a second groan. He caps his soda and slumps back down in his bed. “I feel horrible.”

”So does he.”

”I almost attacked him!”

”He feels like he provoked you.”

”He made a joke, for God’s sake.”

”One that obviously didn’t sit right.”

“That doesn’t matter,” Keith says. He pushes himself back up onto his elbows and huffs, dislodging a few strands of his bangs. “I was being way too sensitive.”

”Speaking of sensitive… Allura keeps eyeing me and trying to get me alone. I think she’s going to try and interrogate me next about the scans.”

Keith can’t help it and whines, surprising the both of them. “Lance, what am I going to do?”

“I… don’t know,” Lance admits. He falls silent instead of launching into his usual babble of potential solutions, not a good sign. Keith feels his face tugging into an even deeper frown but forces himself to sit up completely and continue sipping at his soda. The next several minutes are spent in silence, an unusual occurrence between the two of them. Keith can’t help but glance over at Lance every few seconds, taking in his expressions and trying to gauge his thought process. For once, he’s at a loss for whatever the other boy is thinking, and he can’t help but feel as if he’s been shut into a dark closet. 

“You know I don’t care, and Pidge doesn’t care,” Lance blurts, making Keith jump. “Allura and Coran don’t get human stuff and genders, so they’ll just think it’s something similar to everything that happened with Pidge… Hunk is ridiculously supportive, and his sister is trans too… And even if Shiro doesn’t get it, he’ll definitely have your back and be the Dad Friend, just like always. So, like…”

”What you’re saying is that you think I should come out.” The words are flat and acidic on his tongue, like a bitter pecan. 

Lance shrugs and looks away, towards the wall. “I mean, not if you don’t want to. But no one is going to hate you for it.” He keeps his voice soft, reaches out for Keith’s hand and starts stroking his thumb over his knuckles. “I didn’t hate you for it, did I?” He smiles and turns back to face Keith again.

“No,” Keith admits. “But to be fair, you already loved me… right?” He peeks up from behind his bangs, unsure.

Lance lets out a quiet laugh and leans over to press a kiss to Keith’s temple. “Of course. And so does everyone else. We’re all, like, one big family on a ridiculously long road trip. A road trip that involves killing people and facing death sometimes. But on road trips, and in families, no matter how annoying someone gets, or what weird shit they get into, you don’t abandon them. You don’t purposefully leave them behind at a gas station, but when you accidentally do, you turn around and drive three hours to go back and get them, even if it is one in the morning.”

Keith starts giggling and squeezes Lance’s hand. “You sound like you’re speaking from experience.” 

“I am, but that’s a story for another time. I guess the point that I’m trying to make is… we all stick together, even with all the weird shit. Remember that one time Shiro got his arm caught in the refraction tunnel, and even though we all laughed like hell, what did we do?”

”Took apart the tunnel so it wouldn’t crush his hand. Even though it took, like, two hours.”

”Exactly. And when Hunk gave us all food poisoning by accident, and Pidge was throwing up so bad that she chipped her front tooth on the toilet seat?”

Keith snorts, even though he still feels bad for Pidge and the memories of those few days are enough to give him phantom stomach cramps. “Yeah, and Allura had been the only one not to eat any of it and she cleaned up after everyone and made sure we weren’t dying or something. Even though she bitched the whole time about how it wasn't her job.”

“Yes! That’s the point I’m trying to make. Not even counting all this crazy life threatening shit, we get into some pretty weird situations. But in every single one, we’ve all been there for each other. Compared with some of the stuff we’ve faced, you being trans isn’t even a big deal. Honestly, everyone’s probably just gonna be like ‘ok, sure, cool man,’ and then get on with whatever it was they were doing. No one is even going to think it’s that important, probably.” 

Keith never thought that being told that something about him wasn’t important could feel so good. “You really think no one is even going to make a big deal about it?”

”I can almost guarantee it. You remember what happened when Pidge told everyone she wasn’t a boy. Everyone was super chill.”

”Except you. You were lost and melodramatic, as usual.” Keith smirks up at Lance, making the corners of his eyes crinkle. Lance gasps and snatches his hand away.

“I am not always lost and melodramatic. That’s so rude of you, I can’t believe you would say something like that!”

“You’re honestly just proving my point.”

“Go suck a dick, Keith.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Would you like me to? All you had to do is ask.”

Keith watches with amusement as Lance’s face goes up in flames, the heat spreading from the back of his neck up to his cheeks and the tips of his ears. “Jesus, don’t say shit like that.” 

“Like what?” He bites his lip to suppress a grin. “I’m just being honest.”

”You’re killing me,” Lance groans. “Hey, wait. Stop trying to distract me from what we were talking about.”

”I don’t remember what we were talking about,” Keith lies smoothly. “I was too busy admiring you.”

“Bullshit, on both parts. We were talking about the team’s reaction to you being trans. Bottom line, I’m flat out asking you, are you going to tell them?” He crosses his arms and raises an eyebrow. Keith can’t help but snort- Lance looks like a stubborn toddler, insisting on something being done a certain way.

“I’ll… I’ll think about it. I can’t make any promises, but I’ll definitely think about it.” 

Lance’s face lights up with an impossibly large grin. “Thank you, Keith. I really think it will help you feel better. Plus, you and me and Pidge and Allura can stop sneaking around each other and playing this dumb cat and mouse game.  I’m soooo sick of not being able to go out to the observation deck in the evenings, because she’s always there and I don’t want to answer her questions because it’s not my place, but I don’t want to not answer them because that looks suspicious. Plus, why was she even looking at the scans anyway? Was she-“

”Okay, okay, I get it.” Keith silences Lance by holding up a hand with a roll of his eyes. “Just give me time to think. About what I want to say, and that kind of stuff. Deal?”

“Deal.” Lance leans back into Keith, mock-offense long forgotten. “But whatever you decide, I love you, ok?”

“I love you too.” He reaches over to snake an arm around Lance’s waist and bury his face in his shoulder. “Thank you.”

 

True to his word, Keith does think. He thinks long and hard, spacing out at almost every moment they’re not caught in a battle. The rush of adrenaline from a life-threatening fight is the only thing that can get him to put his worries on the back burner. Other than that, he’s focused almost entirely on literally everything relating to coming out.

Even though the cold feeling of dread is still seeping through his stomach, he’s much more calm and rational about everything this time. It’s almost as if Lance’s encouragement has left Keith slightly detached from the whole situation, able to look at it from an outside perspective. It makes everything easier to plan, but not easier to enact. 

Allura doggedly pursues any type of answer; Keith had forgotten just how nosey she could be when she really set her mind to something, how ferociously persistent she could get. It was exhausting having to avoid the princess all the time, especially without doing so in a way that would attract suspicion. He, as well as Lance and Pidge, was getting tired from all the outmaneuvering. In addition to his plans, usual training and drills, as well as an unexpectedly high number of encounters with surprise Galra fighter jets, it was leaving him exhausted. 

“Should I tell everyone at once, like you did, or do it one by one?”

“Probably everyone at once. It might be harder but then you’d have it done with. If you do it one by one the anxiety will build up before each time.”

“You’re right,” Keith agrees. Pidge hums and taps her pencil against her chin, staring dead-eyed at the screen in front of her. Keith knows that despite her blank expression, she was actually taking in all the information that was rapidly scrolling past. He swore she had a near-photographic memory and some sort of hyper-learning ability, but she simply waved him off and said it was a combination of being a child genius and learning good study skills.

Keith called bullshit. 

“I’m always right,” Pidge finally chirps, leaning over to scribble some notes down on the pad of paper in front of her. 

“Not true. You weren’t right when you tried to hook the castle’s speakers and lights up together to sync with music and start a rave.”

”I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Pidge says stiffly.

“Yeah you do,” Keith continues, oblivious. “The Great Rave Incident. When the systems exploded, and the lights ended up blowing out, and the doors to the hangars opened for no reason, and-“

”I get it,” Pidge snaps, sourness coating her tongue. “Okay, fine. I was wrong, one time. But other than that, I’m never wrong.”

”What about when you thought those flowers were edible and they turned out to be a heavy sedative?”

Pidge groans and slumps in her chair. “Keith, you’re killing me. You’re supposed to have my back.” 

“I do have your back,” he says with earnest. “But you are wrong sometimes. Someone has to knock you down a few pegs, anyway.” 

“It doesn’t have to be you.”

He shrugs. “No one else will do it. Someone’s gotta do the dirty work.”

“Suck my ass,” Pidge shoots back, pressing a few buttons to restart the steady stream of information. Keith can’t read any of it, so either Pidge has been learning languages faster than they all realized or she’s installed some sort of tech in her glasses that will translate it. Signs point to the former, considering she’s not even wearing her glasses.

“Gross. Go ask Hunk to suck your ass instead, I bet you’d like that.”

Pidge’s face heats and she whips around to glare at him, throwing the pencil directly at Keith’s head. “Shut up, shut the fuck up, oh my god, you’re unbearable, I swear to fuck if you say one more word I’m kicking you out.”

Keith laughs and picks the pencil up from the floor- she had missed the shot- before tossing it back to her desk. “You’re so eager to harp at me about coming out, maybe you should take your own advice.”

”No.”

“Tell him you liiiike him.”

”No.” 

He grins and spins around in his own chair. It’s rare that he gets so teasing and jovial, but when he does, it’s normally at Pidge’s expense. “Why? It’s not so hard, no one will judge you for it.” He mocks the phrasing she’s been using on him, much to her annoyance.

“If you don’t shut the fuck up right now, I’ll start streaming the security footage of when you and Lance started making out and groping each other on the observation deck from a couple of weeks ago.”

Keith’s cheeks light up bright red to match Pidge’s. “I-I- how do you know about that?”

”The security cameras.”

”I thought they were off!” he squeaks, reaching up to tug at a strand of his hair.

“Keith, they’re literally never off. There’s backups among backups, and I always check the security feeds. You would not believe the amount of dirt I have on everyone, especially you, so I’d watch it if I were you.” 

He’s quick to nod, eyes wide. Like him, Pidge doesn’t bluff and he knows better than to test her. She smiles to herself, smug and victorious, before twisting and returning back to her computer screen. “I knew that would get you to shut up.”

“You’re literally the worst.” 

“But you still hang out with me!” She twirls around in the desk chair so that she’s facing Keith. She shoots him a grin and throws a crumpled up ball of paper at him. He scowls and bats it away, sending it flying towards the wall. 

“Only because I don’t have any better options,” he snaps, reaching up to rub at the back of his neck. It’s sore from yesterday’s training, but he’s mostly ignoring it. 

“Sure you do. There’s Hunk. He’s, like, the greatest friend you could ever have. Or Shiro, very supportive. The history you have with him is just an added bonus. Or, god forbid, you could hang out with your actual boyfriend.” 

“Ew, that loser? No way. He’s loud and annoying and I hope he crashes his lion into an asteroid. Wait, no. That’s mean to the lion.”

Pidge snorts and doubles over in her chair, air barely wheezing past her lips. She starts clapping and sucking in breaths, giving her the overall appearance of a demented seal. “Oh my fucking god, Keith, I love you.”

”Ew,” he repeats, grimacing. “Don’t say shit like that when you look like you’re having an aneurysm.” She laughs even harder, tipping sideways in her chair and coming dangerously close to falling out of it. “Jesus, I haven’t seen you laugh this hard since you replaced Coran’s shoes with light up Sketchers.

She howls and finally collapses, hitting the floor with a thud. The impact doesn’t deter her in the slightest; she clutches her sides and rocks back and forth while Keith sits, stony faced and trying to stifle his chuckles. 

“Oh my fuck, he was so confused. His face, his face, it was priceless!” The words are barely coming, distorted by her wheezy laughter. 

“Don’t hurt yourself,” Keith says before biting his lip and smiling. 

“No promises.” 

They wait until they’ve both sobered up and Pidge climbs back into her chair before returning to their previous topic of discussion. It’s more of the same worrying and more of the same questions that Keith has asked both himself and Lance. Unsurprisingly, he gets the same answers as he has before- reassurances that everything will be fine, and he just needs to trust in his teammates. 

 

It’s so much easier to contemplate literally everything when he’s alone, holed up in his room at night. Courage comes easier in solitude, at least to Keith. Staring at his ceiling, he once again builds up his bravery and makes the decision to come out once everyone is gathered together for breakfast. As long as it’s just him and the rest of the team, it’s going to be fine. 

But of course, nothing can ever work out in his favor. Literally, never. It’s as if whatever higher powers control the universe collaborated to decide “Hey, how can we fuck this guy over even more?” Because Keith is sure getting fucked over six ways to Sunday.

When he woke in the morning, he was… not quite excited, but definitely ready. He was actually prepared, and knew he wasn’t going to back out of it. He dresses quickly and brushes his teeth with a renewed vigor, a sense of power thrumming through his muscles and fueling him on. He was going to do this. He was going to come out. Showtime, Keith. You’ve got this. 

He marches down the hall, away from his room and to the kitchens. He could already hear the clatter of dishes and the chatter of morning greetings, friendly babble intermingling with a warm steamy smell. It almost reminded him of Little Seoul in L.A.; the rapid-fire speaking, happy but urgent voices, a multitude of different food smells that were near the point of overbearing, it all made him reminiscent of his few visits to Koreatown. 

Of course, he was curious. Why was everyone so upbeat this morning? Plus, the kitchen really shouldn’t smell like anything. They tended to stick to food goo for breakfast; Hunk liked to save heavy cooking for dinner, so they could have something to look forward to after a long day of hard work. Did he forget some special occasion? 

A burst of raucous laughter rang out, startling him. The voice sounded unfamiliar. Now that he was listening harder, he realizes there were more voices than there should have been. Voices that were entirely foreign to Keith, high and almost piercing. 

Instantly he was on alert. His Marmoran blade, which he had started to keep strapped to his back, is gripped in his hand before he can even make the conscious decision to grab it. He inhales, gritting his teeth and feeling his lips pull into a thin line. He fights against the urge to draw his lip back into a snarl; he was beginning to have mixed feelings about the blade. It seemed whenever he actually used it or even carried it, he tended to be more… instinctual. Animalistic, even. He was already impulsive and volatile, but he wasn’t going to walk around without a weapon and his Bayard was down in the hangar with Red. But if the castle was being invaded… maybe violent and animalistic could be to his advantage. 

He creeps forward, sticking close to the wall, breathing shallowly and listening intently. Was that Lance’s voice, or wishful thinking? His ears twitch, betraying how unsure and paranoid he feels. Another deep breath and a few steps forward. He tightens his grip on the handle of the blade, feels his eyes widen and his nostrils flare before he rushes around the corner to greet the threat.

The activity freezes and all eyes are on him. His team is there, startled, amongst a variety of feminine but extremely tall aliens. They look fearful, some gripping at each other's arms or shying away, towards the other exit. Shiro puts his hands up in front of him, defensive, a warning against a threat. What is he warning against? 

Keith feels his eyes shooting back and forth, trying to decipher the scene in front of him. Allura steps forward and he winces, shifting his footing and ducking down slightly. He’s confused, flustered, and he needs to figure out what the hell is going on.

“Keith, baby, calm down,” Lance says softly. “No biggie. We’re all safe, ok? Take a breather, come over here, and try to chill out.” 

He feels a shift in his expression that he can’t quite identify; his face burns and tingles, hot, but not in an uncomfortable way. Adrenaline? No, not quite right. It was more like… power. It was as if raw power was bubbling underneath his skin, spreading like spores and fueling him on. All of his instincts scream at him to embrace it, but something rational holds him back, fretting and scolding.

“Keith. You look like a Galra just puked on your face. You are literally breaking out into purple spots.” He turns to stare at Hunk, confused. 

“What?” 

“Yeah,” Hunk continues. “Like, I think you’re going into some kind of fight or flight mode and it’s aggravating your Galra genes. Interesting. I wonder what does it? Probably some kind of hormone release, but I wonder what situations exactly will trigger it?” 

He keeps babbling, getting into biology talk that Keith can’t understand; something about neurotransmitters and endocrines and protein folding. The confusion breaks him out of whatever trance he was under. He feels his muscles relax and his posture improve, standing straight instead of slouched over like some kind of… some kind of predator.

He drops the Marmoran blade and feels his lip curl back in disgust. Animalistic. Definitely not a good thing. Don’t deal with it now, another emotion for another time. Right now, his main concern is his plans. His coming out, it’s ruined. He can’t do it after acting like that, and not with all these aliens here, staring at him, scared of him. He’s an awful person, he should be ashamed of himself.

Shiro’s hands are still up, and now that he’s paying more attention he notices Allura’s arm twisted behind her to grip the end of her staff. It hits him then- he’s the threat, the alien, the monster. Lance’s gentle tone makes more sense now. It’s the voice you’d use with an unpredictable animal, one that you would be wary of attacking you. Hunk is the only one acting normally; even though Pidge is beginning to get drawn into his musings about genetics and hormonal responses, he can still see that she’s shooting him wary looks from Hunk’s side. 

He gulps down the lump in his throat and nods pointlessly. He’s not even sure why he’s nodding, but he does it. He feels himself leaning forward onto his toes as well, and he hesitates, wobbling, before walking over to Lance. He’s scared now, honestly scared. He’s jumpy and on edge. The chatter starts to slowly pick up again, but the shrill alien voices press against his eardrums in an unpleasant way. They throb as Lance winds an arm around Keith’s side, quietly asking if it’s alright. Keith starts to nod but gets stuck on the motion, head stuck in an upwards tilt. 

“It’s okay,” Lance coos, rubbing his hand against Keith’s hip and back. “Just take a minute to get back to yourself, alright?” He tilts his head closer to Keith, and lowers his voice even further. “We landed on this planet while you were sleeping. We’re trying to make a diplomatic alliance with them, and they seem really receptive to it so far. It helps that Allura is in charge, because they’re all feminine and value females above males. Kinda like the Gerudos in the Zelda games, feel me? Except not as intimidating. But, uh… yeah. They’ve kinda been treating the rest of us like puppies or something.” Lance chuckles and rubs the back of his neck. “It’s really degrading but at least they aren’t shooting at us.”

Keith nods once more, feeling himself start to relax slightly. Lance understands when he goes nonverbal, and also understands Keith’s need to know all the details of a potentially dangerous situation. Whether it’s Keith’s Galra genes manifesting in defensive mannerisms, his upbringing in the foster system that taught him to be on edge, or the violence of the war they’re stuck in, he absolutely has to know what’s going on. It’s part of the reason Shiro always includes Keith in discussions between himself and Allura, asks for his opinion on manners even if his first instinct is to run in guns blazing, and keeps him informed on what’s going on. Allura herself is beginning to understand it as well, which is why there’s several texts on Altean history from the Castle’s library, more specifically on wars and diplomacy, scattered through his room. It helps more than any of them could ever know. Without the assistance he’d be even more of a nervous wreck.

“Hello, little one!” 

He jolts and looks up, startled. One of the aliens is standing in front of him, extending a hand that’s palm up and looks vaguely scaled.

“Hu… Hello?” He raises a hand tentatively, unsure of what to do. She grasps it; not in a handshake, but more of a vertical handhold. Her hand is cool and surprisingly smooth despite the scaled surface, and it puts Keith at ease. He has the urge to stroke it, but he’s sure that wouldn’t go over well. 

“What are you doing over here? Shouldn’t you be with the leader of your group?”

“Um… no. If anyone should, it would be Shiro.” 

She makes an unpleasant face. “Oh, no, no, you must be confused. He does not belong with our kind. We are above them.” 

Alarm bells start faintly ringing in Keith’s head. Something isn’t adding up, and he’s starting to go back into panic mode.

“…We?” He finally manages to ask.

Lance’s eyes light up with an understanding Keith hasn’t grasped yet. “Oh, you must be confused ‘cause his hair is long! No, Keith is a boy, like me.”

Pidge glances over, eyes wide, expression almost a mirror of Lance’s. He doesn’t get whatever it is that they’re-

Oh.

Oh.

The aliens think he’s a girl.

A bitter voice in his head tells him that of course they think he’s a girl, everyone can see right through his charade, he’s much too feminine, but he knows none of that is true. At least, he tells himself that it’s not true.

“Lance is right, I’m a boy,” Keith repeats.

“But you smell so… feminine.” 

He bristles. “You’re mistaken.”

The alien’s formerly pleasant expression turns to one of faint disgust. “I see that now. One of us could never be so… brutish.” She turns away, abrupt and disinterested. Keith breathes a heavy sigh of relief while he and Lance shoot each other a simultaneous look of worry. Pidge makes an effort to separate herself from the stunningly beautiful alien that appears to be displaying the inner workings of her cyborg leg, but ends up remaining next to her, peering at gears, cogs, and wires. Keith appreciates Pidge’s attempted support but he knows that nothing could drag her away from tech and mechanics. It would be like trying to pry him away from a knife shop, it’s near impossible. 

He makes a forceful grab at Lance’s hand and drags him into the hall outside of the kitchen. The other boy sputters but follows, unable to resist Keith’s pulling. 

Once they reach the quiet, Keith leans in, shoving his head near Lance’s shoulder and burying his nose in Lance’s neck. Instantly Lance’s arms are around Keith and he heaves out another breath. 

“I thought they were going to out me,” Keith whispers. 

“We could’ve just blamed it on them being aliens. I wouldn’t have let that happen if you weren’t ready.”

Keith’s breathing is shakier than he expected it to be. He had planned on coming out already, so why was he getting so emotional? Because he wasn’t actually ready in the first place, or because he had been taken by surprise?

It didn’t matter. There were other issues at hand, mainly fending off any unwanted attention from their newest potential allies.

 

The next several days were filled with entertainment, discussions, and for Keith, anxiety. Not that him being anxious is unusual in any way, shape, or form, but this time it’s so much worse.. He doesn’t feel that it’s particularly wise to make such a big announcement during a diplomatic mission, nor does he want the stress of the decision. Plus, if he outs himself while they’re stationed on this planet, there’s always the risk that he’ll somehow be forced to interact with others as a female.

The aliens were called Etuders, Keith had found out. They prided themselves on femininity, grace, and strength, all while maintaining a sense of superiority to masculine beings. They were self-sufficient of men and an entirely female society, similar to Gerudos, much like Lance had said. It honestly made Keith frustrated; there was really nothing special about being a woman. He, at the very least, hated it when he was one. It seemed as if personal freedom was at a hazard on this planet, considering the negativity aimed at masculinity. If one of their own didn’t feel quite so feminine, she was likely to be frowned upon. In fact, the more androgynous of their species were of a lower class- servants, public service workers, and most positions considered undesirable went to those who were considered undesirable as well.

Regardless, it wasn’t up to Keith to judge their standards of living, or their conventions and traditions. His job was to keep his mouth shut and provide muscle, in the words of Shiro. 

“Team,” he said. “I know we’re Paladins of Voltron, but here, we’re considered lower. Even you, Pidge, since you don’t present as feminine and take your… ‘rightful place’ as our leader.” The air quotes alone showed how frustrated he was already. “So that means that, while we’re valued as Voltron, we aren’t valued as individuals. They don’t care about what we have to say, they care about what Allura has to say.”

”So why are we even here?” Pidge whined. “Why can’t we just stay on the Castle?”

”Because we’re here to be muscle and keep our mouths shut.” 

Keith shakes his head and sighs, once again slumping in his chair. He’s almost reclined in it by this point, much to Allura’s disapproval. She gives him yet another patronizing look, but he ignores it. The Etuders already thought he was some kind of unmannered barbarian, so he might as well fit the part. Even better, it further differentiated him from them. 

They all sit prim and straight around the table, calmly discussing trade-offs, risks, and benefits of an alliance between Voltron and Etude. Allura is, of course, managing all the discussion. For once, instead of Coran at her left, it’s Pidge, although neither of them seem happy about it. Pidge, especially, is displeased and voicing it every way she can without ruining negotiations. However, she’s also using the newly appointed, and hopefully temporary, position of power to her advantage.

“What about your technology?” She interrupts. “Databases, information, ship paths and galactic hubs? As a force that travels the known universe, it would certainly benefit us to have access to these. I don’t feel this should be restricted, and that it’s more than fair in exchange for protection under Voltron.”

Allura gives a pained smile, and Keith sees her jaw clench slightly. Unlike her, Pidge doesn’t use the flowery, carefully thought out language of a diplomat. She speaks like a greasemonkey- direct, to the point, and exactly as she’s thinking. Keith can tell that it pains Allura, but she wouldn’t dare reprimand Pidge during the discussion. 

“That may be true,” one of the aliens begins. “But how can we be sure of a hasty defense? You said it yourself, you travel the known universe. Surely you cannot come to our aid in a timely manner if needed, so surely we should not be expected to completely divulge our knowledge.”

The back-and-forth continues for much longer than Keith’s attention span does. If he has to be stuck on this damn planet, he would much rather be outside, wandering the town and spending time with Lance. It does him no benefit to sit in on this meeting since there’s no possibility of him contributing. Plus, the extra time for his mind to wander means extra time to worry. The only thoughts he finds himself coming back to are the relentless thoughts of “tell the team, tell the team.” 

He sighs, risks another slump, and instantly regrets it. He slides out of his seat and hits the floor with a bang, drawing the attention of everyone in the room. He feels his face go as red as his armor as he quickly scrambles to reseat himself, muttering out a quick apology. Allura’s smile is so faked by this point that Keith is sure her eyes are going to pop out of her head, and Pidge is barely stifling cackles like the gremlin she is.

It’s going to be a long mission.

 

At the very least, he’s left with a lot of time to kill. So is Lance. The resulting combination leaves them with a lot of time for… bonding moments. 

Lance heaves out a breath and flops the rest of the way back onto the couch. “Hoooly shit,” he breathes out as Keith wipes at his face. “I swear to God, or whatever the hell there is, you have the mouth of an angel.”

”An angel wouldn’t be using their mouth for this,” Keith points out.

“Point. The mouth of a devil, then.”

”Much more accurate,” Keith agrees with a laugh. He wipes his hand on Lance’s wrinkled pants, which are still around his knees. Lance notices and grimaces, but doesn’t verbally complain for once.

“I just washed these.” 

Nevermind, there it was. 

“And I washed my face today. It’s your jizz anyway.” 

Lance groans and throws his head back. “Whatever. You’re lucky I can’t wipe your jizz all over your clothes.”

“Move over,” Keith orders. “And pull up your pants before someone comes in.”

Lance mumbles something about Keith being bossy but complies, simultaneously scooting over while he shoves his hips into the air and grabs his waistband. Keith sits next to him with a huff and leans his head back against the couch, listening to the rustle of fabric and a zipper. Never in his wildest dreams did he think he’d be giving out blowjobs in a very public, shared area, yet here he was. It had a sort of thrill to it, but sometimes Keith stepped back and looked at his life with a sense of detachment and something that was almost disapproval and wondered what the hell he was doing. 

Lance, at the very least, is pleased. He hums a quiet, tuneless note to himself and leans into Keith’s side, pressing his nose to the shorter boy’s neck and inhaling. “You always smell so nice,” he comments. “Even after you’ve been training and stuff.”

”Nice to know,” Keith replies. “Too bad I can’t say the same for you.”

”Hey! Rude!” 

Keith laughs and throws an arm around Lance. “Just being honest.”

”Speaking of honesty…”

”Ugh, Lance, I know. After this mission is over with, I swear. I just don’t want to do it while we’re here.”

”Okay, not what I was gonna bring up, but nice to know.”

”What were you going to bring up?”

”I was gonna say that if we’re being honest, the Etuder lead scientist is really hot.”

Keith shoves at Lance, pushing him off the couch. “Wow, great thing to say right after I suck your dick.”

Lance laughs and holds out a hand. “I’m messing with you, come on, don’t be like that babe.” 

“Asshole,” Keith mutters, grabbing Lance’s outstretched hand. He hoists the other boy back up and helps him back onto the couch. Lance immediately presses against Keith’s side again, handsy and affectionate as usual, if not more than ever. He always gets so clingy and lovey-dovey after any mildly sexual interaction. If Keith wasn’t such a sap, he might find it annoying. Instead, it’s endearing, and something he enjoys. It reassures him he’s seen as a person to be loved, and not just a sex object as his anxiety occasionally likes to tell him. 

“So. What are our plans for tomorrow?”

Lance hums and starts running a hand through Keith’s hair. “Wanna check out the marketplace with me? I went while you were in that meeting with Allura and Pidge, and I saw some real cool weapons you might like.”

Another thing Keith loved about Lance; he understood his special interests and catered to them. “Sounds like fun. Do you think they’d sell to us since we’re men?”

“Well… nevermind.”

”No, what?”

“No, it was a shitty thought. I was going to say if push comes to shove we might convince them to sell to you.”

“Oh.” Keith falls quiet, worry creeping up the back of his throat like a centipede caught in his windpipe. “I see.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it with any harm or stuff, I just meant we could confuse them. Like I said, it was shitty.”

“No, it’s fine. I understand completely, and you do have a point.” Keith sighs before tilting his head and cracking his neck. 

“You’re not a girl. And I don’t see you as one.” Lance grabs Keith’s hand as he blurts out the words. “So don’t worry about that. At least, try not to worry about that.”

“Okay. I’m sorry.”

“Why are you apologizing?” Lance frowns and rubs his thumb across Keith’s knuckles.

“I don’t know. For making you worry?”

“My mama always told me you shouldn’t apologize if you don’t know what you’re apologizing for. Besides, you have nothing to be sorry about. It was me who said something bad, so I should be apologizing. And I am. I’m sorry, Keith.”

This Lance is so much different from the one Keith originally knew. Sure, they still had competition and a playful rivalry, and Lance could be extraordinarily stupid, but they weren’t constantly at each other’s throats like they had been. Lance had grown so much; he could admit when he was wrong now. He wasn’t always chomping at the bit to prove anything about himself, and he could finally cooperate and was happy to be a team player instead of an all-star.

Now that he thought about it, the entire team had grown. Shiro was learning to work past his PTSD and actually listen to other members of the team instead of instantly taking full control. Allura had softened a bit, and was much more willing to accept viewpoints she didn’t entirely understand. She no longer glared at Keith or made snide comments about Galra, at least, not the ones on their side. Pidge had learned to cope with loss and put the team first. Hunk was growing and conquering his fears, and Allura was even putting him through training to become a diplomat since he had learned to be so helpful and accepting. Even Coran had seemingly changed. He wasn’t so quick to push Altean culture and was learning to understand Earth culture, as well as sharing his true thoughts and experiences: memories of the war he had previously refused to share, personal information about himself, and general knowledge that he originally believed to be too much for the Paladins to handle.

Keith's retrospection left him wondering if he had matured at all.

 

True to his word, the next day Lance took Keith to the marketplace. It was designed to keep potential customers wandering; the booths rotated positions everyday with no set pattern, forcing anyone who was searching for something specific to search the labyrinth of shops and traps. Keith had a suspicion it was designed to distract people and con them into buying more than they needed in the first place. It certainly worked on Lance; he was like a magpie, with an eye for everything shiny. If Keith had a GAC for every time Lance stopped to peer at a bauble, he'd have enough currency to buy everything Lance looked at. His constant distractions made Keith the self-appointed watchdog, keeping his eyes sharp for any sign of trouble or confrontation. He wasn't sure if any of the locals would start any arguments, but the pair was receiving quite a few suspicious or distrustful looks. The whole environment- the noise, the staring, the purposeful confusion- left Keith's brain itching.

Lance stops at yet another booth, this one showcasing hand-blown glass, and Keith feels his anxiety rise even further. He thought it was bad last night, but now, instead of feeling like something was climbing up his throat or on his brain, he felt like there was something crawling and clawing all over his skin. It wasn’t dysphoria, but it certainly wasn’t comfortable. He can feel his eyes growing shifty and his nerves fraying, but he forces himself to keep smiling for Lance’s sake.

“Are you okay, babe?” Lance finally starts to notice that something isn’t quite right. His grip on his shopping bag is tight as he stares at Keith, and Keith finds himself watching Lance's knuckles whiten. He hadn’t even realized Lance had bought anything.

“Of course,” Keith promises, lies, through gritted teeth. “What did you buy?”

”Oh, this?” He pulls a necklace out of the bag. The chain is a simple braided material, something between fabric and leather. A charm, a gorgeous vortex of red and blue swirls that converges in the middle to make a violet teardrop shape, is attached in the center. “I got one for you too.” He’s shy now, dark cheeks turning a shade darker as he glances down at his feet. “I thought… I thought it might be nice to have something the two of us could have. Like, like promise rings or something, but easier to keep track of. Is that okay?”

Keith is touched, and instantly feels shitty for feeling so…. Shitty. “It’s great. I love it.”

Lance brightens, his instantaneous smile blinding in the light. “We can put them on when we get back to the Castle, ok?”

Keith agrees. He lets out a long breath through his nose when Lance looks away, already distracted by another booth. 

“It smells like mom’s cooking,” he moans.

Keith gives him a confused look. “Your mom’s cooking smells like Shiro’s home-cooked salmon?” 

Lance looks even more confused than Keith. “Um, no? It smells like arroz con pollo. My mom used to make it after my track meets. What the hell are you talking about?”

The owner of the stall hears them talking and laughs. “The food interacts with your neural paths. It smells and tastes like your favorite food, or the food you’re most craving.”

Keith feels a pang at the thought of being able to taste Shiro’s cooking again, then another pang at the realization that Lance’s favorite meal is just something simple his mom would cook for him. He feels bad that Lance is homesick, and that he has to suffer while Keith has nothing left on Earth to yearn for. He has everything he wants with him in space- he followed Shiro to the stars, managed to ensnare Lance, and found a new family to replace the father that wasn't much of a father in the first place.

“Let’s get some,” Keith said quickly. “I haven’t spent any of the money Allura gave me. Like, ever.”

Lance’s eyes grow wide and for a moment Keith thinks he might cry with joy. “Oh god, yes, let’s please get some.”

They get in the line and wait. Lance bounces with excitement and babbles about the taste, and how he had just been thinking he would kill someone for just a bite of his mama’s arroz con pollo- Spanish chicken and rice. The idea of homesickness is so foreign to Keith, but nevertheless he’s happy he can help to ease some of Lance’s and watch him grow so happy.

They finally get their food. Keith urges Lance to take the first bite, just so he can watch the other boy’s eyes close and hear him hum in pleasure. He smiles and takes a bite of his own. His eyes pop open, a contrast to Lance’s, and he chews happily. It tastes exactly like Shiro’s cooking. He understands why Lance is so pleased now. 

They’re more than eager to sit down and enjoy their meals. It’s just enough food so that they’re sated, but not stuffed. Lance licks his fingers when he finishes, too absorbed in the taste of food to be concerned with manners. Keith is tempted to do the same but restrains himself from giving in. The sudden display of manners is mildly hilarious to Keith, since he's made it a point to act like an uncivilized heathen the entire time they've been on this planet.

“That was so good, I wanna cry,” Lance sniffs. “I miss my mom’s cooking.”

”I can imagine.” 

“Hey, what did yours taste like?”

”Shiro’s fried salmon,” Keith said with a laugh. “It’s not that great, but it was familiar. It was his go-to thing, and I guess I missed it more than I realized.” 

They smile at each other for a moment, probably looking like some dopey couple out of a cliché romance movie. Someone bumps into Keith again and instantly, his anxiety fires back like a bullet from a rifle. His stomach clenches around his meal- he almost regrets the food- and he hunches slightly. Lance doesn’t seem to notice. 

They continue to wander. Lance is determined to show Keith the weapons stall, but he can’t seem to find it, nor will he ask any of the locals for directions. Many of the women surrounding him look at Lance with disdain, but seem friendly towards Keith. He knows why, Lance would know why if he was actually paying attention, and the whole experience is making him want to puke up his lunch. As if that would get the disgusting, squirming feeling out of his body. He should know by now that it doesn’t. It never has, and it never will. 

Unlike Lance, Keith is offered help and directions. He keeps turning it down, every mention of ‘ma’am’ or ‘miss’ driving him closer to the edge. If this doesn’t stop, he’s going to explode. He can feel it. There’s pressure building inside of him, so painful and intense, hot and unbearable. He wants to scream, let out his frustration in one loud sound. He wants to fight, to destroy something, to take out his anger and nauseating dysphoria through straight aggression like he normally does. But he can’t. He’s stuck with Lance in this damn marketplace, forced to act like he isn’t breaking every time someone misgenders him, forced to act like disgust isn't exploding in the back of his throat, fueling on his desire to vomit up everything he's ever eaten right onto the sidewalk.

Lance is finally getting tipped off that something is wrong, but he’s unsure of how to approach the issue. He hopes that finding the weapons stall can put Keith at ease, since it’s something he’s so fascinated by, but Lance feels like they’ve started going in circles. It was here, he knows it was here, but he can’t find it and Keith is getting more frustrated by the second. He can’t help but worry that maybe, just maybe, part of it is his fault. After the comment he made to Keith last night, as well as his own incompetence and inability to find the booth, he’s concerned that Keith is irritated at him as well as the misgendering. 

Lance keeps muttering apologies at Keith, but he knows it isn’t helping. If anything, Keith seems to grow more and more angry with every ‘sorry’ that falls past Lance’s lips.

The worst part is, Keith isn’t even mad at Lance. He’s just mad, and getting to the point that the anger is escaping any way it can. His skull is throbbing, a headache already beginning to dig in its roots. At this point, he’s so upset he’s on the verge of tears. If one more thing happens to push him, he may just break.

Thankfully the next few minutes go without incident. His anger finally starts to simmer down slightly and he's starting to think that he may be able to survive this. It won't be the end of the world, he's wrangling it in and controlling his anger. He's being patient, he's growing focused. Patience yields focus, just like Shiro always said. He can do this. It's getting better.

However, as they draw closer to the heart of the city, he spots Allura and the Etuder queen, along with the rest of Voltron and the royal entourage. He narrows his eyes but walks toward them, figuring there’s a chance they’re searching for him and Lance and that it would be wise to join them anyway.

The queen smiles as he approaches, and extends a hand. “A pleasure to see you, my lady.”

It's all it takes. All of the patience and focus and whatever else he was building up is gone. Keith snaps. His vision blurs and grows red. His mind fogs. Before he can even think, his hand is flying towards his Bayard, then towards the queen, sword already out. 

”I am not a lady!” The words explode from his mouth like a lion’s roar, and the courtyard grows silent. After a beat, the breath is knocked out of him; one of the queen’s guards tackled him to the ground. His Bayard is wrenched out of his hand and someone strikes him across the face, hissing and rattling like a snake. He stays down, more out of shock than compliance. He blinks, then turns his head, starting to rise up on his elbows. He’s hit again, hard enough to make his ears ring, and a moment later, his vision go dark.

 

He doesn’t know how long it is until he wakes again, but he does know that he’s alone in what appears the be a prison cell. He’s in different clothes: a black, sleeveless bodysuit that stops just below his armpits and a ragged tank top that seems to have previously been a real shirt but now resembles a potato sack with a rope belt. He panics for a moment before realizing he’s still in his binder and underwear. Hopefully no one important has figured out his secret. 

He would normally spend a significantly larger amount of time worrying about whether or not he was outed, but the fact that he's in a fucking prison is much more of a concern right now. Regardless, the issue still floats in the back of his mind, a not-so-gentle reminder of exactly how much shit he's in.

He raises his head and immediately regrets it, wincing as light and vertigo assaults him. His eyes are bleary, so he blinks groggily in an attempt to clear both his vision as well as the throbbing behind his eyes. His skull stings from the impact with the concrete, or whatever it was these damned aliens used, and when he reaches back to touch it his fingers come away sticky with half-dried blood. He’s fairly certain there’s a bruise across his cheek as well as a bit of crusted blood below his nose, but overall he’s in fairly good condition. He's certainly woken up in worse condition than this. 

Now that he's addressed where he is and taken stock of his injuries, his next concern is whether or not it would be wise to stay put or find a means of escape. The fact he's in containment is obvious, but he doesn’t know if his team is aware of his whereabouts. He's also unsure if the Etuder queen intends to release him, or worse, if she has some kind of torture or punishment in store for him. He swears and punches the ground next to him, instantly regretting it when his knuckles crack and sting. Probably fractured them. Great. More of a mess that he's gotten himself into.

He sighs and lets himself lie back down on the floor. There's no comfort of a bed, so he contents himself with cool, hard stone as he stares at the ceiling and tries to think of a strategy.

His injuries pulse with unpleasantness, which makes for quite the distraction. It commandeers so much of his attention that he almost doesn’t hear the footsteps coming down the corridor, not until they’re almost in front of his cell.

He shoots up to see another guard member, her hair long and tied off in a complicated braid. It drapes over her shoulder like a domesticated snake, bearing the same scaled texture finish that all of their skin does. After taking one look at her expression, Keith decides he would rather be staring down a snake. 

“You are to stay here while your team bargains with the queen in exchange for your release. Any sign of trouble from you and the stakes are raised. Be thankful you haven’t been killed for treason already.” She turns on her heel and stalks off back from the direction she came. 

He groans and falls to his back again. Great. Now he’s fucked up the mission even more. Plus, what is he supposed to do if they can’t agree on what to do with him? He utters another swear and turns to his side, already brainstorming as hard and as quickly as he can. Methods of escape are out, since if he succeeds they’ll never be able to return here, but if he fails, it will create even more difficulties for his team. At this point, all he can do is wait and hope.

 

If Keith was a more believing man, he would think surely God was out to punish him. He spent his time doing absolutely nothing besides sleeping, staring at a wall, and ravenously stuffing his face whenever they brought food. Sure, he knew he was being literally punished by the Queen, but the time in solitude wasn’t good for his psyche. It forced him back into his own head, which, Keith was pretty sure if it were to be represented in a physical space, it would be freezing, dusty, covered in cobwebs and cramped. He feels as if he is in a prison multiple times over- the stone surrounding him, his own malformed body, the dark crevices of his mind- all of it was getting to be too much for him. He was sure that was the Etuders’ plan; to break him, not physically as he had initially worried, but mentally, as he has grown to dread. If he didn’t know any better, he would be terrified. It seems as if the walls are closing in, pressing against his skin, his skin pressing against his body, his body pressing against his skull, and his skull pressing against his brain. It’s an endless cycle of push and pull that leaves him raving, fighting off paranoid whispers that he isn’t going to ever leave this cell. 

His time in containment is quite literally the worst thing he can remember. Even the time when Shiro was reported missing, then dead, was not as bad as this. His eyes are puffy from near-constant weeping, his skin is irritated from both the prison garb as well as him clawing at phantom bugs, and he can’t seem to stop himself from calling out. First he’s calling for Lance and Shiro, then Pidge, Allura, Hunk, Coran, hell, even members of the Blade, deceased or otherwise. He rattles out names until his voice is hoarse, until finally he’s crying for his parents like a lost child. It gets to the point where he simply screams, trying to get the attention of anyone who will listen until so much time passes he’s unsure of what the purpose behind the screaming is in the first place.

The time stretches on, taunting him. He can’t keep track of it anymore, not even with the arrival of meals or the passing of day or night. Not that they were much help; they arrived inconsistently, no set rhythm or pattern. Sometimes, the days are mere minutes. Others, they seemed to last for weeks. The meals aren’t based on the cycles of the days either. The combination of all of it left him reeling and lost. 

He thought he was strong, but now he sees just how stupid he was for thinking it. He’s fought for his life many times, and when he woke up in a cell he was sure that he would have no issues, that he could just keep fighting as he had always done. He was wrong. He’s left wondering why he’s still fighting at all.

 

Unbelievably, he is in only in captivity for three days. Three days. It takes three days before an agreement is reached, and while his team was rapidly devising plans and solutions, he was going stark mad in a prison cell in a simple three days. It’s an aspect of reality that Keith doesn’t want to face- the fact that it took what seems like so little to break him- so he decides to ignore it and instead yell with joy when he realizes Lance has appeared outside of his cell. Keith’s up before Lance can finish whatever he’s saying to the guard, gasping out the other boy’s name and gripping at the bars of his cell as if he’s playing a cheap performance of an abandoned prisoner.

Lance turns, surprised, before breaking into a grin. “I’m here to get you. We managed to seal the deal on negations since you were locked up here, and we managed to convince them that three days in high security prison with neuro-gas was more than enough of a punishment.”

Keith scrambles up, spitting out ‘thank you’s and ‘thank god’s and ‘oh fuck’s. The door can’t even finish opening on its tracks before Keith is pushing past it, throwing his arms around Lance and smashing his face into Lance’s chest. The guard seems none too happy, but Keith couldn’t care less about what she thinks. Lance instantly embraces him in return, laughing and burying his nose into Keith’s hair. “Come on. Let’s take you home.”

For some reason, for a fleeting moment, Keith’s brain cries out “Earth,” but he knows that isn’t what Lance meant. But he lets himself imagine it for a moment, the war suddenly over as they shoot through the stars back to the blue planet, settling down, visiting Lance’s family with him and maybe, just maybe, starting a family of their own. The thought sends a pang of pure desire through Keith- not sexual desire, but a burning  _ need _ for the vision his mind has created. He finally understands, after a prison sentence that felt like years of solitude, what Lance goes through everyday. What it’s like to be ripped away from a family, and just how hard he would fight to have that family back and never let it go.

 

On their way back to the ship, Keith can’t help but ask how in hell they managed to talk the queen down to a three day prison stay.

“Oh,” Lance starts, already laughing. “That’s easy. We told her you were volatile and had PTSD from being captured by Galra at one point, and they mockingly called you a lady. She understood instantly and felt ‘deep sorrow for your tragic experience’ and sends her apologies.” He grins and puts a finger to his lips. Keith has to stifle snorts of laughter as he follows Lance.

“That was genius. Whose idea was that?”

”Hunk’s,” Lance said. “But Pidge is the one who slipped it in discussions.”

“They really are geniuses.”

“Agreed. They also got the guards to admit they were pumping some kind of neurotoxin into your cell that was making you kinda insanely schizophrenic, or something like that. So, with your crippling past experience with trauma-” Lance transforms his voice into a mockery of Allura’s. “- as well as what was essentially psychological torture from these fucks, everyone decided three days in prison and we’d call it even.”

“Wow,” Keith said quietly. “Let’s go thank the geniuses ourselves. Plus, I think I have some things to come clean about.”   
“Speaking of coming clean,” Lance blurts. “I had no fuckin’ idea, but man, Pidge went up to Hunk during  _ training _ , said ‘ I like you and Keith said I should tell you,’ then tased him in the knee and ran away. Did you tell her to do that?”   
“I definitely didn’t tell her to tase him.” Keith smiles, genuinely happy that Pidge worked up the courage to tell Hunk about her feelings for him. “But I did tell her to confess.”

Pidge finally managed to do it. Now that he thinks about it, everyone on their team has made some kind of confession or another. It really is time for Keith to come clean as well.

 

He enters the ship to find everyone gathered in the common room, freshly unsuited and starting to relax. “I’m so glad that went well,” Hunk moans, collapsing onto one of the couches. “I thought for sure Keith’s blow up was gonna ruin everything. No offense, Keith.”

“None taken,” he mumbles.

“Why were you so on edge this mission anyway?” Shiro rests a hand on Keith’s shoulder and raises an eyebrow. “I know being on unfamiliar planets makes you a little anxious, but this was a new extreme. Is everything okay?” 

Keith opens his mouth but doesn’t say anything, letting it close after a moment. He looks around him, really looks; he looks at Hunk on the couch, Pidge pressing into his side as he slings an arm around her. Shiro, next to him, steadfast as always. Allura, standing at the control panel and already arranging coordinates. She pauses, looks up at Keith, and gives him a gentle smile. After his explosion at the marketplace, she had softened towards him, sensing there was something wrong that was beyond her understanding. Coran is next to her, twirling his moustache and grinning at Keith, almost as if he was proud. Finally, Lance. Standing in front of Keith, a glint of knowledge in his eyes and a smile teasing at the corners of his lips. ‘You can do it,’ he mouths, raising a quick thumbs-up. 

Keith takes a deep breath and turns to meet Shiro’s gaze. “Um. I actually had a reason for being so… hostile. It’s… kind of a lot to take in, and I don’t expect you- any of you- to entirely understand it.

Shiro’s expression becomes even more confused. “We can try our best. What’s going on, Keith? If there’s anything we can do to help, we’ll do it.”

Although he’s still nervous, he’s sure of himself for once. The fluttering in his stomach is still partly fear, but he finds himself eager to finally come clean. This is what he was waiting for this whole time- the right moment, where everything falls into place and feels right. 

“Well,” Keith starts, glancing down to fiddle with his hands. He mentally scolds himself and stuffs them in the pockets of his jacket so he can’t see them. Out of sight, out of mind. “Lance and Pidge already know about it.”

He sees Pidge snap to attention from the corner of his vision. Realization dawns across her face and he hears her start going “oooooh shit” to herself. Lance gives Keith an encouraging smile before Keith can duck his head again. “The reason I was so touchy on that planet was because they’re all women, and kept mistaking me for one.”

”Is that all?” Shiro chuckles and pats Keith’s shoulder. “It’s not that bad. We kept correcting them, but I don’t understand why they were so insistent on saying you were a woman.”

”There’s a reason for that,” Keith interrupts. “They smell hormones and stuff like that, and uh… I’m trans. I’m biologically female.”

He can’t help but feel that maybe he should’ve eased into that a little more.

The room goes silent. Hunk drops whatever piece of tech was in his hands. Pidge shrieks and scrambles to catch it before it can hit the ground. Shiro’s lips are parted in shock, while Allura and Coran are staring, obviously confused.

“I don’t understand,” Allura finally says. “What does that mean?”

”It means I was born a girl, but I don’t identify as a girl. Kind of like Pidge disguising herself as a boy, except for me it’s not a disguise. I’m in the wrong body.”

It’s silent again. This time it’s Coran who breaks the silence.

“Well! It doesn’t make you any less of a man in my eyes. If anything, it makes you even more of one! That’s very courageous of you to be so honest with us about who you are.”

”Dude! That’s so cool that you trust us with that!” Hunk is grinning and sitting up straight in his seat. “I didn’t even have a clue. Wait, you guys knew?” His head whips back and forth between Lance and Pidge. 

“Yep,” Pidge announces proudly. “Keith told me a few weeks ago.”

“I’ve known several months,” Lance adds. 

“I’m proud of you for telling all of us,” Shiro says quietly from beside him. He pulls Keith into a one armed hug, and for a moment Keith thinks he’s going to cry. He buries his head in Shiro’s chest and clings back tightly for a few seconds before the two of them separate. 

“So am I,” Hunk chimes in.

Coran agrees, so does Allura after a moment.

“I’m the most proud,” Lance laughs, walking over to join Keith at his other side. 

“Nerd,” Pidge calls from the couch. “I call dibs on any girly stuff if you still have it.” 

“I have a sports bra. You can’t have it.”

Lance laughs as Pidge pouts, and Keith feels his chest swell with happiness, pride, and satisfaction. It went even better than he could’ve dreamed of. Everyone is proud, everyone thinks he’s brave. 

“I suppose that would make sense as to why the scanners showed you as a female,” Allura muses. “I was very confused about that. I was under the impression they were broken, or I was misunderstanding something and no one was correcting me.”

“You were half right,” Keith continues. “But yeah, that’s why I’ve been so anxious. I let my own self-doubt and dysphoria fuck me up, and I almost ruined the mission because of it. That was my fault. I should’ve had thicker skin and I’m sorry.”

”You certainly are growing as a man. A few months ago you would’ve never admitted that you were at fault for complications in a mission.” Shiro begins to walk away from Keith as he speaks to join Allura at her side instead. Keith sees the way they glance at each other and thinks, like Pidge and Hunk, there might be more open displays of romance emerging soon. It would make him happy to see the two of them together and not hiding it, as he’s sure they are already. They’re good together, and Keith isn’t sure why they even bother hiding that they’re together when literally the entire team already knows. But right now, his business isn’t Shiro and Allura’s love-life. 

 

Much to Keith’s surprise, no one slips up on his pronouns, treats him any differently, or even acts as if anything is different. The first time he walks into the training room with just a t-shirt on- no binder or sports bra- the only one to bat an eye is Lance, who lets out a shrill wolf whistle. Keith would be offended, but he did the same damn thing the first time Keith took his socks off around him, so he knows it’s just Lance being a lovable idiot, per usual. No one stares or mentions it, and Keith feels like even more of a man. Surely if no one notices his breasts, the aren’t equating him to a female. 

Instead of leaving the dinner table next time he has cramps, he admits that he isn’t feeling well because he’s about to start his period. Instantly he’s offered an Altean dish that tastes like chocolate cake and a concoction that’s supposed to relax his muscles and would therefore ease the pain. Pidge laughs and says that she isn’t due for another two weeks, and that it “sucks to suck.” He doesn’t feel pressured to excuse himself or bear the pain in silence; in fact, he bitches freely about his cramps and flops around on the common room couches. He and Pidge complain together and compete about who has a worse period. She had finally relented and let Keith paint her nails, so now it’s a regular habit for them when one of them is suffering from cramps.

No one goes easier on him, or treats him as if he’s suddenly weaker. If anything, the training gets harder, the expectations get higher, and he’s held to a more rigorous schedule than ever before. He never thought he would be glad to be pushed as hard as possible. It pays off, too. Overall, he feels generally lighter. Like a better, less anxious person. His mood is improved, as is his attitude He’s stronger as well, whipcord muscle developing on his body- still lean, but obviously stronger. He’s starting to like what he sees when he takes off his shirt: no more soft curve of his tummy, his hips are no longer defined in a way that says female, but a way that says strong. His breasts are somewhat smaller too, the pectoral muscles underneath becoming more prevalent in turn. All of the exercise makes his period lighten up, and there’s some months he barely has one at all.  It makes him look, feel, and seem even less feminine than ever, and he’s almost never mistaken for anything but male or the male equivalent, but most importantly, the next time an alien is unsure of his gender, he can brush it off. The whole team jumps to correct the alien before Keith can even open his mouth.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> many thanks to ladymac111 and gloynporslen for not only their art, but all the help they provided on getting me through the writing of this mess  
> link to lady's art: https://ladymac111-draws.tumblr.com/post/164211579772/illustrations-for-my-voltron-general-bang-project  
> link to gloyn's art: http://gloynporslen.tumblr.com/post/164212503794/my-pieces-for-the-lovely-closetgeekasaurus-s


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